#she’s drawing what she thinks her friends’ houses would look like in their dream world

[grunge-mermaid]

Trying to help my niece work on her plans for world domination and the poor thing is too democratic for her own good. She wants to consult her committee about the mission statement and I’m trying to explain that no, you are the supreme leader, YOU decide what you want to do and your “committee” can get in line or get out

[angelssmvse]

𝘼 𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙈𝙔

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 / 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧)

𝜗𝜚 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 You’re JJ’s sister, part of a close-knit group of friends who’ve been through thick and thin together. But when you discover you have "kook" blood, your whole world is thrown into doubt. Among the chaos, Rafe Cameron becomes a constant source of tension, and despite your differences, your paths inevitably cross. After a violent storm leaves you and Rafe stranded in Morocco, you’re forced to rely on each other for survival. In the midst of uncertainty and danger, you start to realize that maybe, after everything, you’ve both been searching for something in each other all along.

𝜗𝜚 𝘼/𝙉 I happened to dream about Rafe Cameron last night and I HAD to write about him, so here’s a one shot smut (with an interesting plot + enemies to lovers). Enjoy angels <3

𝜗𝜚 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 smut! minors DNI. This narrative contains mature themes and explicit content, including strong language, depictions of violence, adult situations (smut), and elements of both humor and tenderness (unprotected sex, p in v). Reader discretion is advised.

You were JJ’s younger sister, a proud Pogue, raised in a violent family but surrounded by loyal, kind-hearted friends. Your tight-knit circle, bonded by years of shared memories, was your world—Kiara, in particular, was your closest friend. Despite being a “half Pogue” by blood (as she came from a Kook family), Kiara was more like a sister than a friend. You never cared about fame or wealth. What mattered to you was living a peaceful life surrounded by the people you considered family. Your brother JJ, always impulsive and reckless, had a knack for getting into trouble. He often acted as though he could simply reset any bad situation, which meant you were left to pick up the pieces and look out for him. His anger issues, inherited from your father, could be unsettling at times, but you always knew he would never direct that anger towards you. Then there was Sarah—once a close friend before the tension between her and Kiara caused a rift. Naturally, you took Kiara’s side, but you were relieved when they eventually reconciled. In your younger years, Sarah was someone you’d spend a lot of time with. You’d visit her house, throw parties, and, inevitably, there was always someone who would find it amusing to tease you. The main culprit? Rafe fucking Cameron, Sarah’s older brother. Rafe had a reputation as a bit of a bully, though it was more complicated than that. He was rich, popular, and undeniably handsome, often using his status to irritate you and your friends. But after everything that had transpired in recent months, it seemed he had bigger problems to deal with—including that new buzz cut.

You were helping John B with some fishing, wrapping up a few chores before taking a moment to relax. “I’m just so glad we figured everything out, you know? Like… the old me wouldn’t even recognize myself. And JJ? I’ve never seen him this happy,” you say with a soft laugh, the thought of your brother bringing a smile to your face. John B returns the smile. “Yeah, I’m grateful for everything,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. The view from the boat was perfect—the calm, glassy water, the fresh fish, the sunset painting the sky, cold beers in hand, and the easy flow of conversation. It was the kind of moment you never wanted to end. Except… a larger boat, definitely a Kook’s, was drawing dangerously close. John B narrowed his eyes, and without a word, he flicked on the motor. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you shouted, glaring at the other boat. “Hey!” John B added, raising his voice as he tried to get their attention. Then you saw him. “Rafe?” you said, disappointment lacing your tone. “Rafe!” you repeated, disbelief creeping in. He smirked, leaning casually against the side of the boat. “Our property now! Go away, Pogues!” one of his friends yelled, throwing an obnoxious wave in your direction. “Leave, assholes!” They added, flinging their drink at your boat—whatever rich liquor they were sipping splashing across you. For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, as the alcohol soaked your clothes. “John B, let’s just leave,” you whispered, frustration simmering beneath your calm exterior. “What the hell!?” John B shouted, throwing his arms up in disbelief. Rafe’s head appeared over the side of the boat, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, stumbling slightly as he tried to stay balanced. “Hey, y’all better leave,” he said, his voice nonchalant, though it was clear he was barely keeping it together. With a resigned sigh, you and John B started the boat, silently putting distance between yourselves and Rafe’s crew. It was clear they had nothing better to do than ruin the peaceful moment, but you weren’t about to let them.

A couple of weeks later, you found yourself on the same boat with Rafe—of all people—as he had just saved your asses from the police. Now, you were heading to Morocco, a place that seemed both like an escape and a new chapter of uncertainty. It had been a crazy ride—Sarah was pregnant, JJ was as drunk as ever, and you, well... you almost lost everything. Your property. Your life. You nearly got killed by some random guys, Pope had been arrested, and to top it all off, you had just discovered a truth that shattered everything you thought you knew. Your entire life had been a lie. You were a Pogue, born and raised, yet somehow, you had Kook blood running through your veins. Who would’ve thought? The irony wasn't lost on you. As the group argued over what to do with Rafe, you sat on the floor, trying to block out the noise. JJ, however, had fallen uncharacteristically silent, his eyes fixed on you while he sipped his drink. It was like he was trying to read you, but even in your haze, you could feel the weight of his gaze. He moved closer and sat down next to you, his breath heavy with the sharp scent of alcohol that always reminded you of your non-Dad. "Hey..." he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "Everything will be fine, okay? I’ll figure this out. We’ll kick Rafe off this boat, and—". But you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up abruptly, pushing him away, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. Tears you had been holding back for so long finally spilled over, streaming down your cheeks. You could barely breathe, the pressure of it all suffocating you. "Jesus Christ, JJ, stop it," you said, your voice breaking as you turned and rushed toward one of the rooms, trying to escape from the overwhelming emotions that flooded through you. From his position, Rafe had been watching the entire scene unfold, observing everything from the higher deck as he took control of the ship. He didn’t trust any of you—not after everything that had happened. He knew he was in the wrong too; after all the backstabbing, the betrayals, the lies. He had done everything to gain your groups trust, and yet... despite everything, something about this group still gnawed at him. He had always denied it, but there was a part of him—an uncomfortable part—that felt a strange attachment to you. He hated how much it infuriated him when you talked to other guys, or worse, when they looked at you even for a second. It would drive him mad, make him feel this irrational, burning jealousy he couldn’t explain. Watching you laugh with the others, seeing how they adored you, made him lose his mind in ways he couldn’t understand. He had tried to push it all down, to convince himself that he hated you—that he hated everything about you. But every time he did, it just made him more miserable. When he saw you upset, it twisted something in his chest. He had always hated that about himself.

You woke up groggily from your nap, the boat gently rocking beneath you. Stepping out of your cabin, you made your way to the girls, feeling the weight of the day still hanging heavy on your shoulders. "Hey..." you whispered as you sat down next to them. Kiara immediately pulled you into a hug, her touch warm and comforting. "Are you feeling better?" she asked softly. "We didn't want to bother you." You let out a small sigh, nodding. "Yeah, I’m fine... Where are the others?" You looked around, surprised at how calm the boat felt, especially after everything that had happened. The girls exchanged a glance before the silence was broken by a scream from one of the locked rooms. "Let me out!" Rafe’s voice echoed, the desperation clear. You raised an eyebrow, looking at the girls in confusion. "What’s Rafe doing in there?" you asked, your voice unsure. Sarah sighed, her face tight with frustration. "We went to talk to him... and it didn’t end very well. He was armed. JJ punched him, and that was the only option left." You nodded slowly, trying to process it all. "Mhm. Okay. Okay." You took a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. "I think we should make dinner, huh?" It was the only thing you could think of to distract yourself from everything spinning in your mind. You didn’t want to open up, didn’t want to burden anyone with your problems. Everyone here had their own issues, and you had to deal with yours, quietly.As dinner came together, you prepared a small portion for Rafe. You hesitated for a moment, but then said, "I’ll bring this for him," before carefully picking up the plate and walking towards the door where Rafe was locked up.

You unlocked the door slowly, the sound of the mechanism clicking louder than it should’ve been. There, in the dim light, Rafe was sitting on the floor, his hands tied and drenched in sweat. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a split second, you saw something softer in them, something almost vulnerable. "Here," you said quietly, setting the plate of food down on the floor in front of him. You could feel his gaze on you as you stood, awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t move, staring at the food without touching it. You glanced up at him again, catching his eye. "I’m sorry. They had no choice but this." Your voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of the words sitting between you both. Just as you turned to leave, you heard his voice, softer, but desperate. "Wait," he said, the word barely escaping his lips. "Just—stay. Please,". You froze, your back still facing him. For a brief moment, you hesitated. If you left now, you'd be an ass—he’d hate you for it. But then again, why should you care? He probably already hated you, right? And staying, talking to him... that felt like a betrayal to your friends, a line you didn’t want to cross. You swallowed the tight feeling in your throat and turned, shutting the door softly behind you. "Hey! Wait!" Rafe’s voice cracked through the silence, louder this time. "Hey!" He shouted, his frustration rising. You heard him begin to violently kick the walls, the sound sharp and jarring. "You’re just gonna leave me in here?!". You could feel the heat of his anger seeping through the door as he threw the food you’d just given him, the clatter of it hitting the walls making your stomach twist. You didn't look back. Instead, you kept walking, your heart pounding in your chest. As you moved away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Rafe’s anger, something deeper. And despite everything that had happened—despite the hatred, the violence, the lies—you couldn’t help but wonder what it was that kept pulling you back to him.

The storm hit hard, howling through the night, throwing waves against the sides of the ship. You could hear the wind tearing at the sails and the relentless crash of thunder overhead. The entire ship felt alive, bucking beneath you as you clung to the nearest railing, trying to steady yourself as everything around you shook. You and John B were doing your best to keep things from spiraling out of control, struggling to keep the ship from tipping over in the chaos. But even with all the work, your mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, a thought pulled you out of your focused panic: Rafe. “Hey!” you shouted over the roar of the storm, trying to catch his attention. "I’m going to see what's going on down there, okay?" you yelled, nodding toward the cabin, your voice barely carrying over the loud wind. He gave you a curt nod, already moving in his own direction. You didn’t wait any longer. You turned on your heel, struggling to keep your balance as you made your way below deck. The floor was slick, waves crashing against the hull, and everything around you seemed to be in a constant state of motion, making it almost impossible to stay upright. You braced yourself against the walls, your heart pounding from the adrenaline, until you finally reached the locked door. “Rafe!” you called, your voice cracking slightly from the strain of the storm. You knelt down, quickly untying the knot that held his hands. You brushed your wet hair behind your ear, glancing up at him as he looked back at you. "Please don't let me regret this," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Rafe chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

You both wasted no time. With a quick glance, Rafe took your hand and led the way. He moved with purpose, navigating the ship like he owned it, knowing every creak and groan of the ship better than anyone. You were behind him, just trying to keep up as the ship pitched and rolled beneath you, the storm making everything harder than it already was. Then, as you passed the galley, you both froze. There, sitting on the floor in the middle of the chaos, was JJ. He was slumped against the wall, a bottle of liquor in his hand, his head hanging low. His hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, and he looked like he was barely holding it together. “JJ…” you said softly, your heart aching at the sight of your brother in such a state. You walked towards him, but Rafe stayed a few paces behind, eyes locked on the situation. “Please get up,” you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the storm’s fury. JJ slowly lifted his head, his eyes glazed and unfocused. When he saw you, his lips twisted into a half-smile. "Or what? You got yourself a new boyfriend, huh?" he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. You winced, feeling a pang of frustration. He was so drunk, so out of it, and it made everything worse. "JJ, please," you repeated, walking closer, trying to help him to his feet. But before you could reach him, he suddenly pushed himself up, swaying unsteadily. His glare was unfocused, but it was still intense. He held the bottle out toward you, but you moved quickly, taking it from his hands. “Enough,” Rafe’s voice cut through the tension. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and JJ. His tone was hard, firm. "Let's just get the hell out of here," he said, his voice quiet but commanding. JJ glared at him, his anger flaring. “You stay out of this, Rafe,” he snapped, his voice rough, but it didn’t have the usual bite. He was too drunk to even stand up straight, let alone fight back. Rafe stood his ground, pushing JJ back a step when he made a move toward you. "Not this time," Rafe said coldly. He didn’t even raise his voice, but his presence alone made JJ take a step back. You looked at both of them, torn between your brother and the strange, undeniable tension that hung in the air between you and Rafe. Your heart raced as you realized just how close everything was to spiraling out of control. The storm outside mirrored the one raging within the confines of the ship. For a long, tense moment, no one moved. You looked between Rafe and JJ, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. Rafe’s expression softened slightly, but only just enough to show a hint of something unspoken. As you took a step back, you glanced at JJ, seeing the hurt and anger in his eyes, the pain behind the alcohol. “Let’s just get out of here,” you repeated, your voice quieter now. You turned toward the exit, Rafe’s hand guiding you away, as the storm raged on around you. But behind you, JJ’s words still echoed, mixing with the thunder outside, an angry shout that faded into the sound of the storm.

The three of you made your way back to the others, the atmosphere thick with tension as you all sat down around the dining table. The ship’s constant creaking beneath the storm’s fury only made the silence between you all feel heavier, more suffocating. The occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the space, highlighting the uneasy glances everyone was giving Rafe. The looks were silent, but they said it all: they didn’t trust him. And right now, you couldn’t blame them. You sat there, lost in your own thoughts, barely noticing the way the ship rocked violently beneath you. Everything felt so out of control, like you were spiraling, each moment pulling you further away from any semblance of safety. The storm, the tension, the confusion—it was all too much.

Then Sarah stood up, the scrape of her chair against the floor dragging everyone’s attention toward her. “Guys—where’s John B?” she asked, her voice full of panic. The group exchanged looks, eyes widening. The space suddenly felt too small, too tight. “I’ve got to find him,” Sarah said quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. Without waiting for anyone to stop her, she dashed toward the exit. “Sarah, wait!” you called after her, but she was already gone, running through the storm, gripping onto the nearest stable object to steady herself as the ship lurched violently. “John B!” she screamed, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and crashing waves. Her words were swallowed by the storm, and for a moment, you thought you might have imagined the way the air grew still around you. But then it happened—without warning, a massive wave crashed against the ship, slamming into Sarah with such force that her scream was suddenly cut short. Her body was swept off the ship, pulled into the dark, merciless sea by the violent water. “No!” you shouted, jumping to your feet, your heart hammering in your chest. You could barely process what you had just seen. The rest of the group scrambled, horrified, frozen in place for a moment. JJ was the first to react. Without hesitation, he dove toward the railing, reaching out for Sarah as she was dragged further away from the ship. "Sarah!" he screamed, but she was too far. His eyes locked onto her, and there was no choice left. He jumped. He didn’t even think, just threw himself into the water, desperate to save her, to pull her back. You stood there, unable to breathe, your eyes wide in disbelief. You watched as JJ disappeared into the waves, leaving you behind. John B and the others had seen it, too, all of you trapped in this horrible moment. Your mind raced, but your body was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to do anything to stop the chaos unfolding in front of you. Your best friend and your brother—two of the most important people in your life—were now lost in the storm, and there was nothing you could do to bring them back.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You turned around, your chest tight, hoping for some kind of comfort, some kind of clarity. But when you met Rafe’s eyes, the last person you expected to be there, you saw something you didn’t expect: sincerity. His expression was dark, filled with regret, pain, and maybe even guilt. Before you could say anything, Rafe was already there, pulling you into his arms. His embrace was tight, his hands running through your wet hair as the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. You cried, quietly at first, your body trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, like he couldn’t find the right words, like he was searching for something to say but couldn’t find it. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. You didn’t want to feel this connection to him, not after everything that had happened, but in this moment, his touch was the only thing that grounded you. The storm outside, the storm in your heart—it all blurred together. All you could feel was the weight of what you had just lost. As Rafe held you, his warmth in contrast to the coldness of the storm, you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. The sound of the storm, of crashing waves and thunder, seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the chaos in your heart. In the silence of the ship, with only the two of you holding on, there was a brief moment where nothing else mattered.

The ship tilted violently, a massive wave crashing into it, sending everything into chaos. You reached for Rafe’s hand, but the wind and water pulled you apart. He grabbed you tighter, but it only made things worse as the ship lurched again, sending both of you overboard. You tried to hold on, but the weight of the water and the force of the storm were too much. The cold sea engulfed you both, dragging you down, your desperate gasps for air lost to the waves. The ship’s creaks and groans faded into the distance as you were pulled under, and just like that, you and Rafe were gone. Onboard, the rest of the group watched in horror, realizing they had lost not two, but four of you. The nightmare was endless, the storm swallowing everything in its path.

You and Rafe, still holding hands, struggled to stay afloat in the violent ocean. Hours passed, each minute feeling like days, until you finally spotted land. The moment you reached the shore, you collapsed onto the sand, exhausted and grateful. "Yes! Finally some land!" you yelled, gasping for breath. Rafe lay next to you, closing his eyes, and you stood over him, still trying to catch your breath. "What?" he murmured, not opening his eyes. "Are you planning to stay here forever?" you asked, hands on your hips. "God, let me take a break," he groaned, finally opening his eyes. "I’m hungry, Rafe." The two of you started a fire and managed to catch some fish after several failed attempts. It wasn't much, but it was better than starving. As the fish cooked, you sat in silence, staring at the fire. Rafe sat next to you, but kept his distance. "We should keep moving—find the others," you said, your voice cold. "I don't even know if my brother's still alive. We barely—" He interrupted you. "Let’s just rest for a bit, regain the energy we’ve lost." You shot him an angry glare, your frustration boiling over. For a split second, he saw something familiar in your eyes—your brother��s fire, your brother’s determination. You were unrecognizable, and it made his stomach twist. "No," you said, looking away, your voice quieter now.

You both set off again, trekking through unfamiliar terrain in search of the rest of the group. Hours passed without any sign of them. The search led you to a village, but you were lost in the maze of unknown streets. There was no trail, no clues. "Let’s just stop for a second and think, baby," Rafe suggested, his voice softer. You spun around, fury rising in your chest. "Don’t call me that!" you screamed, your finger pointed at him. Rafe’s patience snapped. He grabbed your wrist, pinning you against a nearby wall. "Hey, listen to me," he hissed, his voice low but firm. "I’m done obeying. Done doing whatever you're trying to do. You’re blinded by rage, and don't try to deny it. I know exactly how it feels." You froze, the fire in your eyes flickering for just a moment. His words hit harder than you expected. He was right—you were blinded by anger. You softened, just for a second, and his grip on your wrist loosened, giving you space. "Okay..." you whispered, feeling defeated but also oddly calm. "What do you have in mind?" A slow smile spread across Rafe’s face as he pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. "Where did you...?" you asked, confused and surprised. "Just follow me," he said, his grin widening.

The sun was setting as you and Rafe finally found a hotel for the night. The exhaustion of the day hung heavy on both of you, but as soon as you entered the room, your eyes locked on the single bed in the middle of it. You paused for a second, staring at it, then turned to Rafe. Before you could even say anything, he threw his hands up in defense. "It was the cheapest one, don’t blame it on me." You rolled your eyes and shook your head, unable to suppress a small sigh. "Of course," you muttered, rubbing your temples. The day had been long enough without having to deal with this. Rafe just shrugged, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It’s not like you had any better ideas," he added, smirking. You narrowed your eyes at him but didn’t say anything more. What could you say? You were too tired to argue. Still, the thought of sharing a bed with him made your skin crawl a little. But in the end, you didn’t have much of a choice. "Fine," you said, dropping your bag onto the floor. "Let’s just get through the night.". Rafe gave a half-grin, settling down on the edge of the bed. "Agreed." It wasn’t ideal. But after everything, it was at least a place to rest—something you both desperately needed.

It was late, and sleep refused to come. You sat up, glancing over at Rafe’s face in the soft moonlight. He looked so different—almost innocent, like someone else entirely. He wasn’t the man everyone feared, the violent, unpredictable guy. Maybe he needed to be understood. Or maybe, you thought, you were just too tired to think clearly. You slipped out of bed quietly and made your way to the balcony, craving the cool night air. The breeze hit your skin, and for a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You leaned against the railing, taking in the view as you let your thoughts drift. You couldn’t help but reflect on your past—how you’d gone from having nothing, to having everything, and then losing it all over again. When would it stop? Just as the weight of your thoughts grew heavy, a voice broke the silence. “The view’s beautiful, mhm?” Rafe’s voice was low, his gaze distant as he stood in the doorway, his eyes turned away. You turned toward him, catching his eyes for a brief moment before looking away. "Yeah, it really is," you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sounds of the night. Rafe nodded, clearly trying to find the right words, but they didn’t seem to come. The silence stretched between you, both of you caught in your own heads. You could feel the tension rising, the unspoken words thick in the air. You took a breath and spoke up, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Hey, Rafe?”—“Yeah?” he responded quietly, turning his attention back to you. You hesitated, then looked up at him. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.” A smile tugged at the corner of Rafe’s mouth. He gave a small nod. “You wouldn’t be sleeping in a nice hotel if it wasn’t for me,” he said with a light chuckle, the tension in his voice easing for a second. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft laugh escaping you as you lightly punched his arm. "Hey," you teased, trying to break the seriousness that had built between you.

The brief moment of laughter faded quickly, and the air around you both grew heavier. The silence between you two became thick with something else, something unspoken. Your eyes locked once again, and this time, neither of you looked away. It felt like the space between you was closing, drawn in by some invisible force. Your heart raced as you both stood there, drawn together by the weight of the moment. The space between the two of you slowly closes as he kisses your soft lips. The kiss deepens, becoming more and more passionate. His hands roam over your body going to your hips as he holds you tight. You, tip toed, hold him by his neck as he picks you up bringing you to the bed finding himself on top of you now. You look up as you catch his gaze, filled of lust and desire. He begins to kiss your neck leaving love trails all over you, his warm breath makes you arch your back against him—and God knows how much he loved it, how long he wanted this, just to have you closer to him made this man feel complete somehow. A shiver run through your spine as you feel his belt unbuckle, he kisses you before leaning back, staring at you for permission as you nod. And without hesitation he finds his entrance starting to follow a slow and steady rhythm, not wanting to hurt you. You moaned holding tight onto his shoulders, he began to move faster making you moan louder, he smirks, “You like it? Mhm?” He whimpers in your ear as he kept going. You were so close, trying to hold tight miserably. Your legs wrapped around him as he slows his pace teasing you. “Rafe,” you whimper, “please.” Rafe smiles at you as he keeps up to his pace again finally making you reach you climax as you arch you back releasing all that you had left. He keeps going before pulling out and crashing on top for you catching his breath and softly kissing your neck. He loved every single thing about you—the way your hair fell just right, the way your eyes sparkled, the fire in your voice. He loved your stubbornness, the way you never backed down. But that was the problem. He hated the fact that he loved you. It infuriated him, this feeling he couldn’t control—couldn’t fight. You were everything he couldn’t have, everything he’d never deserve. And yet, there he was, drawn to you in a way that made him lose himself, lose the hard shell he’d built around his heart. He hated how much he wanted you. How much he needed you. Because in the end, he knew it would never end well. It never did. But in this moment, as your gaze met his, as your lips met his, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Maybe that was it��maybe all you both needed was each other this whole time. Maybe the answer had always been simpler than you thought. Maybe, despite everything that stood between you, despite the complications and the fear, all you really needed was to be together. To stop fighting it, stop pretending you didn’t care. And maybe, just maybe, it was finally time to admit that, for both of you, this was where you belonged.

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story; please do not copy nor translate without permission or proper attribution. I give credit for the character Rafe Cameron from the series "Outer Banks" by Jonas Pate. This is the only platform where I have published the story.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 How to Unintentionally, Get An Endless To Marry You: Chapter One

How to Unintentionally, Get An Endless To Marry You: After saving a strange man from a fishbowl cage, you earn yourself a favor. When you cash in said favor, you don’t realize that you and the man aren’t on the same page on what you need from him.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus x Afab!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Masterlist | Next

"So..." you drag out the word, not really knowing what to do now that you've gone all kamikaze on your employer and broken out the strange man locked up in the basement of Fawny Rig. "I didn’t expect to get this far in my plan and have absolutely no idea what to do now..." You look around, trying to figure out where you are. Certainly not in that damp old basement. Had something witchy happened when you shattered that glass prison? "And where are we?"

"You are within a dream," his voice is deep and rich, perfectly fitting his out-of-this-world beauty. Your eyes draw back to his face, and you are more than glad that he is now wearing clothes.

"A dream, gotcha... how did we get here?" An obsidian eyebrow rises, and his lips twitch. He finds amusement in your false bravado of nonchalance. He can feel how unnerved and stressed you are.

"Did he not tell you?" You make a face at the strange, beautiful man. "I am Dream of the Endless. Prince of Stories, Master of Dreams and Nightmares, and Lord of the Dreaming. You may call me Morpheus."

"Like the Sandman?" Why do all mortals call him that? Either way, Morpheus nods at you.

"You have freed me from my confines, Y/N. I owe you a great debt that you may call upon whenever you wish."

"A what? All I did was the right thing, no need for dramatics," you tell him. "You don’t owe me anything… though it would be nice if you could, like, zip me on over to my house? I don’t think I’ll be too welcome back at the manor, you know, kinda broke you out and everything..."

Morpheus tilts his head to the side at your rambles, surprised by your lack of greed and intrigued by your apparent belief that he owes you nothing for releasing him. Quite a peculiar mortal you are. Morpheus decides to observe your dreams more closely when he returns to his realm.

"You shall be returned to your home upon waking," Morpheus promises, observing the expression on your face. He had told you that you were in a dream.

"Okay, um, are you going to be okay? I mean, I don’t exactly know anything about being an Endless or whatever, but you were stuck in there for a while."

"You needn’t worry for me, Y/N." You open your mouth to argue, but how could you not worry when he looks so damn skinny and pale? Sand swirls around your head, and a cloud of sleepiness hits you.

"Uh, Mom, no, you don’t need to set me up with the son of your friend..." you trail off, massaging your forehead while hoping your mother finally gets the message that you don’t need her help finding love. Your love life is your own. Simple as that. They meddled enough in your youth to the point where you keep mum about most of your current life.

"But Y/N, he’s a banker, well off, and has a nice house! It’s even got a pool!" You pinch your forehead and tap your foot on the floor, counting to ten in your head so you don’t go off on your mother for trying to set you up for what has to be the thousandth time. "If you marry him, you’ll never have to worry about a single thing again! All your problems would be solved!"

"No, Mom, no." You repeat to her. "I don’t need you finding me a husband, okay! You’ve tried this a million times before and none of them have ended well! Besides! I’ve—I’ve—I’ve already gotten married!"

You have no idea where that came from because you most certainly have not gotten married. You haven’t even been in a relationship for at least three years! Not that your family or friends would know that, but that’s beside the point. You just told your mother you got married, and she will sink her teeth into that like a dog with a bone.

"MARRIED!?!" She practically screams over the phone. "You got married without telling me or your father!? Without inviting us!?" You hold your phone away from your ear as your mother calls for your father in distress, shrieking about your complete and utter betrayal.

"Honestly, this is why I keep to myself," you complain to yourself as she throws an absolute conniption to your father. There’s a lot of back and forth between your mother and father before your father takes over the phone call.

"So you got married..." He doesn’t sound upset, just tired. Most likely from your mother’s antics. You massage your temple.

"Uh, courthouse wedding?" you offer, knowing that your friends and family would buy that excuse. "I didn’t want any frou-frou or excitement, just a... civil ceremony. Didn’t even wear a fancy outfit. Just signed papers and was done with it." He grunts in acknowledgment. You take after him in that aspect.

"Well, your mother is demanding you come visit with your partner," he sighs out. You inwardly cringe. "And before you say you’re too busy, she already threatened to make plans to visit you, so you can’t escape this." Shit.

"She’s not relenting on this?" you ask, despite knowing the answer.

"No." Your shoulders droop.

"Okay, okay, tell her we’ll be up in like, a week." You relent with a heavy sigh. "I’ve got to—I've got to figure things out first, but… we’ll be up." Your father says his goodbyes, and ending the call, you stare at the wall across the room in horror.

You just told your mother that you were married.

You are, in fact, not married.

And you just promised to bring said spouse up to your parents' house in a week.

You have one week to find someone willing to be your spouse.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There is no way you are going to drag your friends into this mess. No way. You don’t have the money to go and pay someone off to act as your spouse, and you wouldn’t feel comfortable bringing someone like that into your parents' home anyway. That leaves you with one other option that you are mulling over.

Morpheus. Deity, or Endless, whatever he had called himself. He surely has the time to help little ole you out for a weekend after you busted him from his cage. He did say that he owed you. You would consider this payment. But how exactly do you go about summoning an Endless?

"Okay, um, Morpheus?" you ask out loud, having no idea what you’re doing but figuring that if he is as all-powerful as he seems, he would probably hear you. "I think I’m ready to cash in that favor now, but I don’t really know how to contact you? So uh, yeah, if you can hear me I’d be grateful if we could talk soon. Like really soon."

You stand in your apartment for a few moments, not really knowing what else to do but waiting for something to happen. Nothing does. So you take a deep breath and head for bed. Only when you fall asleep that night, you find yourself standing in a place you have never visited before, or even remotely recognize. Disoriented, you spin in a circle of confusion until your eyes catch sight of a throne perched above winding stairs, and the very being you need to talk to sitting in said throne.

"Oh, okay, this works too," you murmur to yourself, still wondering where exactly you are. Morpheus regards you calmly, taking in your appearance fully for the first time since he regained his full power. You are such a... mortal. There is nothing special about you, but perhaps that is because Morpheus has only ever seen you in a state of stress. Yet you are the very reason his realm and dreams of the universe have returned to normal, and that makes him intrigued. He rises from his seat and slowly walks down the stairs.

"Hello," he greets, his voice a low timbre you find far more attractive than necessary. You blink at him and hold up a hand, giving him a small wave because what else are you going to do? Perhaps you should bow? Or curtsy? While you try to figure out what decorum is appropriate, the Endless comes to a stop in front of you. "You wished to speak with me? I will fulfill my debt to you. What is it you require?"

Right to the point. That helps you because he is unbearably gorgeous and you feel entirely inadequate in his presence. A few days shouldn’t be too hard, then you would never have to see him again. You could just tell your parents it didn’t work out and you got a divorce! Clearing your throat, you gaze up at the Endless with a nonchalant look.

"Please be my husband," you state boldly. For a few moments, silence stretches between you, and finding it uncomfortable, you speak again. "I need you to be my husband. My mother won’t stop harassing me about getting married, and I really need her off my back. She’s making me visit for the weekend, and I can’t show up without..." You trail off.

"A husband," Morpheus finishes for you, unblinking at your demand. It is a rather simple demand for the great debt he owes. Nonetheless, he will do so to his best ability. "Very well, I shall be your husband." The relief on your face catches the Endless off guard as the stress slips free from your facial features and you physically relax.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," you breathe out. "You have no idea what she is like, and I just need her off my back about this. She keeps trying to set me up with these mediocre guys I’ve never met before. She doesn’t understand that I don’t want or need her help in that... department..." While you trail off, Lucienne comes striding into the throne room.

"My lord, your presence is requested—" She pauses mid-sentence at the sight of you standing so intimately close to Morpheus. "I was not aware you had an audience, shall I return?"

"No," Morpheus replies, his eyes not once straying from yours. "We have finished our business." You tilt your head to the side, wondering what will happen now.

"So should I leave?" you ask, looking around in confusion. Wherever you are is positively beautiful! But you have no idea how you ended up there in the first place.

"That will not be necessary," he reassures you, "I am sure you are curious about this place. It is only right that you are shown our realm." You blink at his word choice, thinking he is referring to himself and the lady. "Matthew, will you please introduce Y/N to the realm?"

A raven pops up from behind Morpheus’ shoulder and cocks its head at you.

"Sure! Hi! I’m Matthew, Morpheus’ raven!" the bird chitters, much to your surprise. Then again, this is a dream! Dream of the Endless. You should probably try to figure out more about him.

"Uh, sounds good, lead the way," you say, following the talking raven out of the throne room while Morpheus and Lucienne have a stare-down you are not privy to. The moment you are out of earshot, Lucienne's eyebrow goes up.

"May I ask who that was, sir?"

"My wife," Morpheus answers simply.

"Your... wife," Lucienne repeats slowly, making sure she heard correctly. "And when did this happen?"

"Three minutes ago." Three minutes ago?? Lucienne is going to need to hear how exactly this came to be. Immediately.

"...and that’s Fiddler’s Green. He’s a major arcana and has some awesome views if I do say so myself!" Matthew finishes, puffing out his chest proudly. "The whole place got an upgrade since you broke Morpheus out of his fishbowl."

"It certainly has to be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been," you respond in agreement, your mind still reeling from the sights and beings you have seen on the tour. "I—I had no idea what would happen when I set him free, but seeing all this… I’m really glad I did."

"Yeah, don’t be surprised if you have random dreams and nightmares walking up to you to thank you," Matthew echoes, fluttering down from a nearby tree. "They’ve been watching their home disintegrate for over a hundred years, so you breaking the boss out is kinda a big deal to them."

"Is... that why they kept staring at me?" you ask, tilting your head to the side while remembering how you had been stared at in the village. It had just about given you a complex before Matthew guided you away from the town.

"Oh yeah, you’re kinda famous here..." the raven says before stilling and going silent. Clearly, something has distracted him because the bird hasn’t shut up since he started showing you around. You carefully watch as Matthew is silent for a few more moments before shaking his head and ruffling his wings. "Okay! The boss is inviting you for dinner… not entirely sure how that works in a dream… and wants me to bring you to some palace staff."

"Why bring me to the palace staff?" you question as the raven takes flight again.

"Cause he wants to impress you..." The moment Matthew mutters those words, the poor bird squawks midair in a ruffle of black feathers and nearly tumbles from the sky. You catch him before he hits the ground.

"What?"

"I mean he’s trying to introduce you to everyone and everything, ya know?" Matthew blurts out in a rush of words, still jilted by the blast of annoyance and ire he’d received from his lord very much intruding on his thoughts and sight. "Don’t you want to know what it’s like living in a palace? I’ve seen the baths and man if I had my body back..."

Ignoring whatever had ruffled Matthew’s feathers, you right him in your arms and lift him to your shoulder while you walk back towards the looming palace.

"I’m sure you could still enjoy a bath, Matthew," you reassure him. "Birds take baths, don’t they? Granted, not extravagant ones, but still..."

"My point is," Matthew begins, clutching your shoulder with his feet, "we’re trying to be good hosts and the palace staff want to make sure everything is perfect for you. Don’t ladies like being pampered?"

You look down at the clothes you are wearing in contemplation. Well, the raven has a point. Jeans and a t-shirt aren’t exactly worthy of Dream of the Endless, are they?

"Uh, I’ve never been pampered in a dream, but I suppose I could find out?" you offer. "I’d hate to dismiss the hospitality."

Date Published: 12/4/24

Last Edit: 12/4/24

Masterlist | Next

[celestialtarot11]

Astrology Observations 🤍✨

Hi friends! Welcome back to another post 💅🏻 today we’ll be looking at astro observations! Please like, comment and reblog to help this blog grow ✨

Aries + Taurus pairing as friends/couple are the show stoppers. They draw attention wherever they go, there’s so much fire between them. Although Taurus is an Earth sign, Taurus does enjoy the finer things in life and passion! Aries helps to bring the heat in the connection and the two have a lot in common. Aries is headstrong, Taurus is as well. Both are self starters and independent. Both know what they want (taurus is a fixed sign) and both know what it takes to create + sustain it.

Aquarius sun experienced being the quiet one in group settings, especially if they were with people they didn’t necessarily understand or get along with. Its not that they aren’t smart, or capable of human interaction. They’re actually great at it, they just preserve their energy for better people/interactions.

Gemini’s love to story tell and embellish their stories! They love adding jokes, flare, and drama to their stories. They’re a bit like Leo-great at storytelling and communicating! Both Leo and Gemini love to entertain 🤍✨

Transits in your 4th house-family will require your attention more, and specifically the Mother could be around a lot more. Physically, emotionally and mentally even if you may not have a great connection. She may try to wiggle her way in your life during these 4th house transits. If you work with ancestors, they will be sending you dreams and messages day to day even more than usual. Expect the things that you need to liberate yourself from will come up in dreams, or day to day. Dreaming of your childhood for example can be triggering to some, whether the dream was good or bad.

Sagittarius are often quiet but have a lot to say when in a proper group setting. They think a lot of the world around them, and I notice they like to be in situations where they can mansplain 🤣 but offering advice and mediating conversations is their specialty. They’re blunt, honest, and get to the point.

Leo women often walk with a lot of respect, flare and spirit. Their head is held high.

Cancer women love going out and love staying home! They have their homebody moments too 💅🏻 cancers love a good time! And are not stuck in their shell as ya’ll may think

Cancer women may also be the type to have fairy tattoos, or tattoos that are delicate. They have tattoos that have a whimsical charm to them, even if it may be considered “dark.” There is an ethereal vibe to it!

Virgo women love planning, decorating and getting family together! Or who they consider family. They love setting the mood, setting the atmosphere, environment. They would be great party planners/wedding planners!

Pisces women may be into cars 👀

Scorpio moon women may get into nursing at some point or considered studying that!

Gemini women may love doing their own nails, and being proud of their art! They love to show off anything that expresses their skill.

Gemini Venus women want to speak different languages but may get frustrated at the effort required 😂 as a gemini venus myself yes

Capricorn moon women may enjoy having a minimalistic setup in their room, colors that are light and simple, but with a dash of darkness or vivid color! They love creating balance in their room and have an eye for intensity through detail

Leo rising commands all the attention in the room for themselves. But I’ve noticed if a Leo rising is not feeling confident in themselves, they can come across as arrogant, and self absorbed. It’s because part of them needs their own attention and space, but the native isn’t realizing that. Or the native doesn’t know how to meet their needs.

Thank you all for being here! I really appreciate it 🥹���� Please enjoy the little observations I put together! Feel free to like comment and reblog ✨

Paid Readings 💗✨

[thebunnednun]

If you really love me, let me go PII

Parings: Red Haired Shanks x Vice Admiral! Reader

Prompt: Hey Mami! Soo I've been thinking about our beloved Shanks x Vice admiral!Reader. Cuz why not? He's so carefree, so it would be nice to see him with someone who is the opposite of him.

This is Part 2 and the final installment of this story.

For, @orange-milky who gave me the prompt for this story. Always making me flustered with their nicknames for me.

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~~

“y/n…” 

Shanks’ voice is quieter now, a question lingering on his lips, one you’ve dreaded for years.

At first, Shanks couldn’t quite make sense of the scene unfolding in front of him. He had sensed the girl playing in the backyard the moment he stepped closer to your house—the faint sound of laughter drifting in the breeze as she swung from a tree, her flowy green dress catching in the sunlight. 

He had even seen you from the window, bending down to pick something up, but he hadn’t expected that "something" to be a someone.

For a brief second, Shanks’ mind flashed to another time—a memory of you with Luffy. The way you had scooped the small boy up and perched him on your hip, kissing the scar on his cheek with such natural, motherly tenderness.

It had been then, in that moment, that he had first imagined what it might be like to  be a dad and have children with you. The thought had come so effortlessly, like it had always been there in the back of his mind, waiting for a reason to surface.

That wasn’t all. 

Shanks remembered the day he knew you were the one he wanted to call his girl—the day he saw you hurl a needle into the eye of an opposing Marine admiral in the middle of a hurricane without missing. The sheer precision, the raw confidence, and the way the storm made your wild hair cling to your face... it was breathtaking.

And when you had smiled at him for the first time, after being stoic in the beginning, he knew in his heart that he wanted you to be his wife.

But this... this was something different entirely.

At first, he thought maybe you had company. You always did draw people to you like moths to a flame, your natural charm pulling in anyone who crossed your path. He figured some friends had dropped by—people with children. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you.

But when the little boy nestled in your arms turned to look at you and said, “Mama,” Shanks felt like the world stopped spinning.

“Mama.” 

That one simple word felt like a cannonball straight to his chest. It knocked the wind out of him, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His heart clenched painfully, a tightness in his throat he hadn’t felt in years. You had always been able to surprise him, but this... this was something he couldn’t have anticipated, not even in his wildest dreams or worst fears.

Shanks stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move, unable to think. His mouth felt dry, and all the air in the room seemed to vanish. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he had just heard, trying to replay the moment in his head to confirm it wasn’t the rum still coursing through his system. 

His eyes darted between you and the boy, searching for any explanation, any reason that could make sense of this. But it was undeniable—the boy had your face, your eyes, and his hair... God, his hair was red, just like his own! Shanks’ heart pounded harder.

Was this real?

Had you... had you really kept this from him?

For how long? 

‘Why?’

You could see the shift in his expression, the flicker of realization sparking behind his eyes as his gaze grew darker, more confused. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His hand, the one that always held so much power and steadiness, trembled just a little at his side.

He clenched his fist, swallowing hard as he tried to ground himself, but the weight of it all was crashing down faster than he could process.

The little boy—Luca, you’d said his name was, hadn’t you?—squirmed in your arms, oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air. He giggled again, reaching up to touch your cheek, his tiny hand brushing your skin with such innocence, completely unaware of the storm brewing just behind him.

“y/n… ” Shanks finally managed to say, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. The words cracked as they left his throat, laden with confusion and hurt, though he fought to keep his composure. “Who... who is this?”

The question was simple, but the emotion behind it was anything but. You could see it—feel it—in the way his eyes searched yours, desperate for an answer, desperate to understand why the woman he loved had hidden something so monumental from him.

You held Luca a little closer, your heart racing as you met Shanks' gaze, knowing there was no more running from the truth.

"Mom! Are we leaving soon? Oh."

Mariana had raced back into the house, her sandals clutched in one hand as she ran. Her face was flushed with excitement, eager to get back to town and discuss the details of her latest adventure with her friends. But as soon as she stepped into the living room, her excitement faltered, her gaze quickly shifting from you to the tall red-haired man standing in the doorway.

She saw you standing protectively over Luca, your arms encircling him as if to shield him from harm. Your face, usually so composed and unflappable, was now clouded with a mix of fear and uncertainty. The sight was enough to make Mariana’s heart race with alarm.

You, her vice admiral mother? The legendary figure who sailed through storms as if they were mere playgrounds, her ship slicing through turbulent waves with a thrill that bordered on defiance?

The daring woman who preferred to dive into the abyssal depths of the ocean, where most would fear to venture, embracing the dark and enigmatic waters with an insatiable curiosity? 

Her mother, who commanded duel pistols with such precision and flair that she could have dazzled the world with a thousand breathtaking gun tricks?

The same mother who governed as a Vice admiral, her name whispered with awe and reverence across the seven seas, known throughout the nearby islands for her serene and steadfast duty of nurturing Kehlani Village? Her mother was–

afraid?

In an instant, her instincts kicked in. She didn’t fully understand what was happening, but she knew she had to act. Her small frame tensed, and her eyes narrowed as a protective rage bubbled up inside her.

Without a second thought, she activated her Haki, her aura flaring with a palpable intensity that filled the room.

The air seemed to thicken around Shanks as the powerful force of her Haki enveloped him. The change was immediate and unmistakable—his relaxed posture stiffened, and his eyes widened in surprise as he felt the weight of her presence pressing down on him.

Mariana’s anger surged through the room like a tangible wave, her emotions channeled into a commanding presence that left no room for argument.

“Get out!” Mariana’s voice was sharp and authoritative, imbued with a strength far beyond her years. Her small hand pointed decisively towards the door, her gaze locked onto Shanks with a steely resolve that belied her age. She was not just a child; she was a protector, and she was determined to keep her family safe from whatever threat this stranger posed.

Shanks stumbled slightly, caught off guard by the sheer force of the young girl’s command. His usually confident demeanor was now replaced with confusion and a hint of fear. He had always known children could be special, but seeing her wielding her Haki with such raw power was a revelation that left him momentarily speechless.

You, too, were taken aback by the sudden turn of events. The sight of Mariana standing up so fiercely, her small frame radiating an aura that demanded respect, was both impressive and heartbreaking. You could see the determination in her eyes, a mirror of the strength you had hoped to instill in her.

“Mariana, stop!” you finally managed to call out, your voice tinged with both urgency and desperation. You reached out to her, but she didn’t waver. Her focus remained solely on Shanks, her Haki still directed at him, making it clear she wouldn’t back down until he left.

“Mom, who is he?” Mariana’s voice trembled slightly, the authority in her tone giving way to the confusion of a child who had just discovered that the world wasn’t as simple as she once thought. 

“Why is he here?”

Your heart ached at her words, the protective instincts of a mother clashing with the need to protect your children from the harsh truths of the world. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you faced both Shanks and your daughter.

“Mariana, please,” you said softly, trying to deescalate the situation.

“He’s someone from my past. It’s complicated.”

Shanks, still grappling with the intensity of Mariana’s Haki, took a step back.

The standoff in your living room was charged with palpable tension. Mariana’s Haki shimmered with fierce determination, her small figure standing defiantly as she directed her raw power at Shanks. Shanks, in turn, squared his shoulders and met her gaze with an intensity that matched her own.

The air crackled with their combined aura, a silent battle of wills as they locked eyes in a high-stakes staring contest.

Luca, his wide eyes reflecting the chaos around him, clung to you tightly, his small body pressed against your side. He looked up at you with a mix of fear and confusion, his tiny hands gripping your jacket as he sensed the seriousness of the situation. His gaze flicked between Shanks and his sister, caught in the whirlwind of emotions and unspoken words.

Desperation gripped you. Your voice was swallowed by the overwhelming presence of the Haki clash. “Mariana, Shanks, please!” you pleaded, but your voice fell on deaf ears. 

Behind Shanks, the rest of the red-haired crew stood in the doorway, their expressions a blend of curiosity and concern. They shifted uneasily, exchanging glances but staying silent, unsure of how to intervene.

They looked on with a mixture of curiosity and concern, their eyes flickering from Shanks to you and back again. It was clear that they were unsure whether to intervene or stay out of it, their loyalty to you both keeping them rooted but alert.

The commotion had attracted attention from outside, and you saw the imposing figure of Garp bounding up the steps to your house. His heavy footsteps thudded loudly, the sound of his approach adding an additional layer of urgency to the already tense scene.

You knew that words alone wouldn’t bridge the gap between Mariana’s unyielding resolve and Shanks’s own formidable aura. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on you, your thoughts racing as you desperately sought a way to defuse the standoff.

With a steely resolve, you reached for your pistols, pulling them from their holsters with practiced ease. The metallic clink of the guns echoed through the room as you aimed carefully.

Without hesitation, you fired two warning shots into the ceiling. The sharp cracks of the gunfire reverberated through the room, and the sound of plaster and dust raining down punctuated the noise. The sudden, jarring interruption shattered the intense focus between Mariana and Shanks.

The force of the shots broke the spell, causing both of them to flinch and turn their attention towards the source of the commotion.

Mariana’s Haki wavered, her concentration broken by the startling sound. She blinked rapidly, her stance faltering as she took in the sight of you with your pistols drawn. Her fierce expression softened slightly as she realized the gravity of the situation.

Shanks, too, broke his intense gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to look at you. His eyes held a mixture of surprise and understanding, his own aura dissipating as he took in the scene before him.

Luca’s grip around your middle tightened, his small frame trembling slightly as he looked up at you with wide, worried eyes. You reached down to reassure him, placing a calming hand on his head as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself amidst the chaos.

Garp’s booming voice echoed through the open door as he arrived, his presence adding to the already fraught atmosphere. “What’s going on here?” he bellowed, his gaze shifting from the tense standoff to you, then to Shanks and his crew.

You lowered your pistols, holstering them with a resigned sigh. The weight of the situation had become almost too much to bear. “Garp,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “There’s a lot to explain.”

Shanks took a step back, his expression conflicted as he glanced between you and Mariana. He seemed to be weighing his next move, his own emotions turbulent as he struggled to process the revelations of the past few minutes.

Mariana, still standing her ground, looked to you for guidance, her eyes searching yours for answers. The fierce protectiveness in her gaze had not completely faded, but it was now tempered with a growing confusion.

The room was a mix of tension and relief, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and emotional turmoil. As Garp stepped inside, his stern face softened slightly as he took in the scene, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Garp said firmly, his gaze shifting between you and Shanks. His tone was authoritative but not unkind, as if he understood the complexities of the situation and was prepared to offer support.

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the night catch up with you. “I know,” you said softly, taking a deep breath. “I’ll explain everything. Just…give me a moment.”

With the immediate tension broken, you focused on calming your children, your heart heavy with the weight of the secrets that had been exposed. 

Mariana’s voice sliced through the silence, her tone sharp and demanding. "Who are you?" Her dark eyes bore into Shanks with a ferocity that matched the weight of the moment. Shanks blinked, the intensity of her gaze catching him off guard.

He had faced storms fiercer than this, fought battles against some of the most dangerous foes in the world, but nothing quite compared to the piercing challenge of his daughter’s question—the daughter he never knew he had.

"I'm Shanks," he said, his voice steady but low, as though the weight of his own name carried a burden he hadn’t anticipated. The truth. It wasn’t an explanation, but a declaration. He glanced toward you, hoping for some guidance, some sign that this was all a misunderstanding, but you stood frozen, your face a whirlwind of emotions—guilt, fear, protectiveness, and something deeper.

Shanks’ mind raced, the events of the previous night replaying in fragments—your shared laughter, the warmth of your embrace, the way you looked at him like nothing had changed. But now? Now there were children, your children, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened in the years since you left the crew.

His heart pounded as memories of your departure flooded back. The day you chose to leave, to stay behind in Kehlani Village, had always felt bittersweet. He respected your decision, even if he didn’t fully understand it. You were a force of nature—his vice admiral, the woman who kept his crew in line, the one who understood his restless spirit.

You had a no-nonsense attitude that made him laugh and kept him in check, but you also had a hidden tenderness, a softness that only he was allowed to see.

Could you have left him for another man? The thought twisted inside him like a knife, cutting deeper with every moment of uncertainty. No, it couldn’t be. The fierce, protective way you held Luca, the way you looked at Shanks now, terrified yet determined—there was no betrayal here. Not you. Never you.

His mind flashed back to the times you'd playfully shoot glares at any woman who dared come too close to him. There was a fire in you that would never tolerate sharing what was yours. And he was yours—he always had been.

But these children, Mariana and Luca, the spitting images of you with traces of him in their features, left him breathless. 

The truth was staring him in the face, but he couldn't comprehend it.

His eyes softened as they fell on Mariana’s auburn curls, so much like his own, and then Luca, with the same stubborn streak Shanks could see reflected in his gaze. These were his children. He knew it now, deep down in his bones.

Still, the uncertainty gnawed at him. "Did you stay behind… for someone else?" he finally asked, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. His voice was laced with pain and disbelief, the confusion of a man who felt his world had shifted beneath his feet. 

"Were the past few years all a lie?"

Your heart clenched as you met his gaze. You could see the pain behind his eyes, the cracks in his usually unshakeable demeanor. This was Shanks, your Shanks, the one who always knew you, who could read you better than anyone.

But this—your children—was a secret you had kept for too long, and now it was all unraveling before him. Luca’s small voice cut through the tension like a blade. 

"Is this a friend of Dad’s?" 

He looked up at you, wide-eyed and oblivious to the storm swirling around him. His words hit like a punch to the gut. You hesitated, the silence in the room thickening as you grappled for an answer. 

"Not exactly," you finally managed, though the weight of the truth was heavy in your throat.

That simple phrase seemed to unravel something deep within Shanks. His face, already strained with emotion, fell. The flowers he had been holding slipped from his grasp, petals scattering across the floor in soft, colorful disarray.

The rest of the Red-Haired crew, standing just outside the door, exchanged glances, unsure of how to react to this heart-wrenching scene. Garp stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he took in the children, the shattered expressions on both you and Shanks, and the unspoken reality hanging in the air.

You swallowed hard, your grip on Luca tightening as the words you had dreaded for so long fought to reach your lips. "Shanks… I never betrayed you. I swear. But… there’s more you need to know."

The weight of the truth was suffocating, and you could see the battle raging within him—wanting to trust you, yet needing answers. Shanks stepped closer, his hand reaching out toward you, his expression softening as he said, "Then tell me. Tell me everything."

Mariana’s eyes darted between you and Shanks, her young mind trying to piece together a truth she hadn’t been prepared for. The tension was building to a boiling point, and you could see the fire igniting in her, just as stubborn and quick to react as you’d always been. She finally demanded, "What’s going on? Who is he? I want an answer, now!"

The words tore from your throat before you could think. "Yes. This man… Shanks… Red-Haired Shanks… is your father."

The room froze. For a heartbeat, everything stood still as the words reverberated through the air like a gunshot. Shanks, still standing near the threshold, looked like he’d been struck. His face paled again, only to flush with a rush of overwhelming emotion. 

His eyes flickered from you to Mariana, then to Luca—his children. His children. It was like he was being squeezed by a sea beast, caught between joy and devastation. His hands trembled slightly as he ran one through his hair, disbelief warring with the knowledge that everything he had ever dreamed of with you had been real… and hidden from him.

Mariana couldn’t believe it. Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, staring at Shanks like he had grown another head. "You lied to me!" she screamed, the betrayal and hurt evident in her voice. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Before you could reach for her, to explain, to comfort, she spun on her heel, bolting from the room with a speed that caught you off guard.

"Mariana!" You shouted after her, lunging forward, but she was already gone—racing through the dining room, her bare feet slapping against the floorboards, past the kitchen, and out the back door. The screen door slammed shut with a loud bang, leaving you frozen mid-motion, your outstretched hand hovering uselessly in the air.

Luca stood in the center of it all, looking up at you with confusion and fear written across his young face. "Mom?" His voice was small, uncertain, and it broke something inside you.

Benn Beckman, watching the chaos unfold with the calm understanding that only a seasoned pirate could muster, gave a subtle nod. "Alright, boys, back to the beach for now," he said quietly, his deep voice carrying authority as he motioned for the rest of the crew to fall back. One by one, they complied, stepping away from the house and leaving the scene to unravel without their presence.

Shanks, still standing in the entryway, finally seemed to break free of the shock that had held him in place. His legs moved, slow and heavy, as if every step toward you carried the weight of the years you had been apart. He entered the house, his eyes fixed on you, but his face was a tangled mess of emotion. 

Hurt. Anger. Fear. Joy.

 He was trying to make sense of it all, and failing. Garp followed behind him, uncharacteristically quiet, his large hands resting on his hips as he assessed the situation. Shanks swallowed hard, his voice rough as he tried to find the words. 

"Why didn’t you tell me?" 

His question wasn’t an accusation—it was a plea, a desperate attempt to understand how things had come to this, how you had kept such a monumental secret from him.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you held Luca close. His small hands gripped the fabric of your shirt as he clung to you, confused and scared by the sudden explosion of emotions around him. You could barely look at Shanks, your throat tight with unshed tears as you whispered, 

"I thought I was protecting them… protecting you."

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with unsaid words and painful truths, as Shanks stood just a few feet away, his gaze piercing but gentle, like he couldn’t decide whether to embrace you or collapse under the weight of everything you had just revealed.

Shanks' question hung in the air between you both, heavy with meaning. "What do you mean by that?" His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge, as though he was trying to understand the impossible weight behind your words.

You shifted, your arms tightening protectively around Luca as you spoke. "I can't have my children go through what Ace and Luffy do just for being alive," you said softly, the memories of what those boys endured flashing in your mind. The fear. The danger. The constant threat simply because of who they were.

Shanks’ jaw clenched. "Our children." He corrected you, his voice firm. His hand twitched at his side, as if he were holding himself back from reaching out, from pulling you both to him.

You took a breath, your gaze flicking to the open door where sunlight spilled into the room, a glaring contrast to the weight of your conversation. "You have a home at the sea, Shanks," you continued, your voice steady but filled with the pain of the truth you were revealing.

"You're a fish, always moving, always searching. Who would be there to keep order in the world’s oceans if not you?"

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face for answers, for understanding. "And you?" His voice was rough now, the emotion threatening to spill over.

"What about you?"

"I created a life here," you replied, your gaze dropping to Luca, who was still clinging to your side, confused and scared by the tension between the adults he looked up to.

"For them. A life where they’re safe. Where they don’t have to be in the crossfire of your world."

"I can gather that," Shanks said, his tone softening slightly, his eyes following yours to Luca. His son.

You gently cupped Luca’s cheek, your thumb brushing over his soft skin. "Luca, sweetheart, please go to your room and play with your toys," you said quietly, trying to keep your voice calm for his sake. But Luca, being your son, stubbornly held his ground.

"But mama—" he began, his small voice filled with the conflict of wanting to stay and protect you, though he didn't understand what was happening.

Garp, standing in the corner with his arms crossed, decided to step in, his voice gruff but filled with a firm gentleness only a grandpa could manage. "Better do as you're told, lad." His tone left no room for argument, and Luca glanced between you and Garp, caught between his loyalty to you and his desire to obey.

He took two reluctant steps back, his small shoulders slumping as he realized he had to leave you behind. His mother—the one who woke him early to watch meteor showers, who was always there to pick him up after school. His heart ached, but he wanted to respect you, just as you'd taught him.

Before he could turn to go, Shanks spoke again, his voice suddenly soft. "Wait." He held his arm out to Luca, a silent plea for just a moment longer.

Luca hesitated, then stepped forward and placed his tiny hand in Shanks’ much larger one. He looked up at his father with wide, innocent eyes, and whispered, "You have hair like mine."

His little fingers touched his own fiery red locks, and Shanks felt his breath catch in his throat, unable to respond for a moment.

He gazed down at Luca, taking in every detail of the boy's face—the round cheeks, the curious eyes, the soft red hair that mirrored his own. His son. He felt an overwhelming rush of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel, and for a brief moment, everything else melted away.

Shanks’ gaze drifted from Luca to the open door, where Mariana had fled moments before. Sunlight streamed through the entryway, casting long shadows across the floor.

He could almost see her stubborn silhouette in his mind—her fierce temper, her bold spirit. His daughter, with her mother’s lovely face and fire in her heart, but his eyes, his stare. A perfect blend of both of you.

He returned his gaze to Luca, who was still studying Shanks' face intently, trying to make sense of the man standing before him. And then, he looked back at you—kneeling before your son, still dressed in your Vice Admiral uniform, the red sash he had given you tied snugly around your waist.

The hat and jacket you’d discarded were forgotten on the sofa, your combat boots by the door. The delicate earrings, little ship helm’s, adorned your ears. His heart swelled with pride and sadness all at once. 

You were every bit the woman he had fallen in love with—and more.

Shanks moved carefully, almost as if he were afraid to break the moment, and gently pulled Luca into a one-armed hug. Luca looked to you for reassurance, and you gave him a soft nod, granting your silent permission.

The boy hesitated only for a second before wrapping his little arms around his father's neck, burying his face in Shanks' shoulder.

Shanks closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of Luca's head, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He wanted to thank you for this—for giving him these perfect children, for creating a life even when he hadn't been there to share it.

His heart ached with the bittersweet realization that he had missed so much, but also with a deep, unshakeable love for the family standing before him.

After a few seconds, Shanks gently released Luca, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder as he whispered, "Mind your mama and go upstairs, Luca."

Luca nodded obediently, his eyes still wide as he took a few cautious steps backward, watching his father with a mix of awe and curiosity. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his small feet carried him up the stairs, and the soft click of his door echoed through the now quiet room.

Shanks let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his gaze shifting to you once more. The weight of everything between you was still there, but now, there was something else—something unspoken but undeniable. Shanks knelt frozen at your side, his brow furrowed as he processed everything. 

"And the lassie?" he asked softly, his voice quieter now, almost fragile.

You closed your eyes, not ready for the next wave of emotions that were bound to crash through him. "Yours too, you drunken rat," you bit out, more out of frustration with yourself than with him. The truth, now laid bare, felt like a slow burning fire spreading through the room.

A brief, stunned silence followed before Shanks tried to regain some semblance of control, his smile strained as he retorted, "Hey now, I'm not the one who kept a secret family from you!"

His words were meant to be light, but there was a deeper hurt in them.

"Oh really?" you shot back, unable to keep the edge from your voice. You glared at him, pushing yourself to sit straighter as your frustration swirled to the surface.

"You're the only woman I've ever been with!" Shanks nearly shouted, his face flushing with emotion, his fist clenching at his pants as he shifted toward you.

Before either of you could escalate any further, Garp interjected with a heavy sigh, his patience clearly worn thin. "Now, don’t the two of you start," he rumbled, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension.

He pointed at Shanks, then at you, his expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. 

"Look, you lied, and it was wrong," Garp said, turning to you with a firm but oddly gentle tone. "And you should say your apologies, lass."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Garp continued before you could. "But," he added, now looking at Shanks, "she has a few good points. And you," he jabbed a finger at Shanks, "still act incredibly immature at times for your long-in-the-tooth age."

Shanks raised an eyebrow, momentarily stunned into silence as Garp scolded him like a misbehaving child.

"Now," Garp grunted, standing to his full height as he stretched, "I’m going outside to cover for you at the base." He adjusted his cap and shot you both a knowing look.

"Go find Mari before she decides to invoke revenge. I hope the two of you can kiss and make up," he finished, a wicked glint in his eye.

As Garp began to move toward the door, he tossed one final, cheeky comment over his shoulder.

"And maybe give me just one more grandchild."

"GARP!" you and Shanks shouted in unison, completely flustered and caught off guard.

Garp grinned, fully enjoying your reactions. "Oh, don’t be shy now. There’s already two of ’em!" he called out, tipping his cap before stepping out the door, leaving you and Shanks alone in the wake of his words.

The room seemed to still after that, the only sound the soft creak of the door shutting behind Garp. The weight of everything that had been said, combined with the reality of the situation, caused you to slump to the floor, your legs finally giving out beneath you.

Your pencil skirt rode up as you landed in a heap, too exhausted and too overwhelmed to care. You let out a groan, covering your face with your hands in a mix of frustration, embarrassment, and exhaustion.

Shanks stood for a moment, watching you from above. Even after all these years, after the chaos and the misunderstandings, the sight of you—disheveled, vulnerable, and bathed in sunlight from the large open windows—made his heart race.

You were still so beautiful, even now, maybe especially now, with your guard down, raw and real before him.

Without a word, Shanks scooted over and gently dropped his sword onto the coffee table with a soft thud. He crouched beside you, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid of spooking you.

Then, with a tenderness that betrayed his rough exterior, he lay down beside you, his broad body stretched out next to yours on the floor.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was your steady breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as the two of you settled into the silence. The warmth of the sun kissed your skin, making everything feel surreal, almost dreamlike.

Shanks turned his head to look at you, his gaze soft and filled with something you hadn’t seen in a long time—an old love, deep and steady.

"I never stop thinking about you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the admission was almost too heavy for him to bear aloud. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to touch you, but he held back.

You peeked through your fingers, still hiding your face but catching his eyes from the side. "I... never stop thinking about you either," you admitted, your voice muffled by your hands. But the bitterness, the pain of all the lost years, lingered like a shadow.

Shanks’ lips curved into a sad, knowing smile. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your forearm, testing the waters, seeking your permission. The touch was so simple, so gentle, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you, grounding you in that moment.

For now, in this sun-dappled room, with the weight of the world just outside the door, the two of you lay in the silence, your bodies close, the years of distance slowly shrinking, if only for a little while.

Shanks raised an eyebrow at your question, his face softening with curiosity. "Do you still not desire marriage?" he asked, his voice gentle, though there was a hint of playfulness in his tone.

You smiled, leaning your head slightly against his shoulder before whispering, “Can I tell you a secret?”

He grinned. “Is it that we have two kids—ouch!” Shanks rubbed his side where you smacked him, still chuckling. “No, not that,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

His laughter faded into a warm smile as he caught your gaze, sensing the seriousness in your tone. "What is it, love?"

You hesitated for a second, watching his expression carefully before saying, "We already are."

There was a long pause as he blinked at you. “...”

“...”

“...WHAT?!”

You tried not to laugh at his reaction, your hand already halfway covering your face as you continued. "We already got married the night I became a vice admiral. We all got so drunk that you proposed to me with those anchor earrings—the ones you said you’d been carrying with you—and I said yes because I always wanted you to be mine officially as my husband."

Shanks' mouth dropped open, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you watched the disbelief wash over him.

“And Benn,” you continued, fighting a grin, “he was the one who technically married us. He had the power to do so, and since the rest of the bar staff, some Marine personnel, your crew, and a few locals saw us in the church... it's official."

There was another beat of stunned silence, and then Shanks groaned dramatically, dropping his head into his hands. “You know,” he mumbled into his palms, “lobbing off my remaining arm, ripping out my eyes, or just carving out my heart would be a lot faster than this little game you've got going on where you don't tell me wonderful things."

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, maybe you should’ve remembered," you teased back, but the smile on your face betrayed any real annoyance.

Shanks tutted at you playfully, and before you could protest, he gently cupped your cheeks with his large, calloused hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, forcing you to look up at him.

“There she is,” he said softly, his voice low and affectionate. "There's my beautiful vice admiral."

His eyes held that mischievous glint again as he continued, "My little rule enforcer. The mother of my children. My wife." His voice dropped an octave lower, deep and filled with longing. "God, I’ve waited to say all of that for so long."

You wanted to cave and give him another baby right there. 

Your breath caught as he drew you close, his strong arms wrapping around you like a fortress. Instinctively, you curled into his embrace, your body fitting against his as it always had. The weight of his presence was familiar, comforting, and for a moment, you forgot the years of separation, the missed moments.

It was just you, him, and this warm bubble of intimacy.

"I wish I was there," he whispered into your hair, his voice laced with regret. "I’m so sorry, too."

You shook your head, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "Don’t be," you said softly. "I had no right to bar you from your children. They belong to you as well, and... you belong to them."

Shanks’ eyes softened further, and for a moment, you saw the man beneath the pirate, the man who had once only dreamed of having a family, of being yours. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "I do wonder how it is you're so good at keeping secrets."

You smirked, your lips brushing against his as you replied, "I work for the world government. You pick up a thing or two."

"And you talk about pirates," he shot back with a teasing grin, pinching you on the rear.

You squealed in surprise, smacking his side before grabbing a handful of his own behind in retaliation. "Ah ah ah," Shanks teased, his voice rich with amusement. "I think this is what led to making the first one."

“Mariana,” you murmured, the name of your daughter heavy on your tongue, filled with both love and the weight of everything that had happened.

Shanks’ grin softened into something more tender, his eyes glowing with pride. "My daughter, Mariana," he repeated, his voice reverent. He looked so happy in that moment, lying beneath you, his face bathed in the warm sunlight that streamed through the large windows.

The golden rays danced in his crimson hair, highlighting the deep lines of his face that had come from years at sea. His eyes, though, were as bright and vibrant as the first time you met him—full of life, mischief, and something even deeper now. Love.

With you now on top of him, straddling his hips, the world seemed to slow down. His hands settled on your waist, fingers tracing small circles on your hips as he gazed up at you with that boyish smile, one that melted your heart every time.

“You look beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his thumb brushed over the red sash you still wore.

His eyes were half-lidded with contentment, utterly lost in the moment, in you, in everything you had built together.

While that was happening downstairs, Luca had managed to lower himself from his window with the makeshift rope of bedsheets, his small hands gripping tightly as he carefully descended. When he hit the ground with a soft thud, he rubbed his sore bottom and glanced around with a mix of curiosity and concern. 

The sun was bright now, casting long shadows across the yard as he set off towards the woods. He was determined, despite his groggy state, to find his sister and make sure she was okay. His tiny feet crunched softly over the grass as he walked, pausing occasionally to glance back at the house and the open back door that seemed to sway gently in the evening breeze. 

The sight of the door left a chill of unease, but his worry for Mariana pushed him forward. The path markers you had placed to guide their way through the forest, with their vibrant colors and gentle sway in the wind, gave him a sense of direction and reassurance. 

He moved cautiously, his small, determined steps echoing with the faint rustle of leaves. The forest, which had always been a place of adventure and fun during the day, now felt different in the encroaching twilight. Shadows seemed to stretch longer, and the occasional hoot of an owl made him jump.

Eventually, Luca came upon the frog pond you had always adored. Its surface was still, the only movement coming from the occasional ripple as a frog leapt away from the edge.

There, near the pond, he saw the silver sandals discarded carelessly at the base of a large tree. His heart skipped a beat, and he hurried over, finding the small, worn slingshot and marbles hidden in the trunk alongside a butterfly knife.

As he was examining the items, a sharp, sudden pain hit the top of his head. Luca yelped and stumbled, rubbing the spot where something had struck him.

Looking up, he saw a small, bare foot sticking out among the tangled mess of green foliage above him. It seemed that the nut that had hit him had fallen from the tree where someone—likely Mariana—was perched.

He peered up into the branches, spotting a hint of a familiar green dress tangled among the leaves. With a determined gulp, he started to climb the tree, his tiny hands grasping at the rough bark.

The climb was challenging for his small frame, but he was driven by a deep concern for his sister. His movements were slow but steady, his feet finding purchase as he climbed higher.

He finally reached a sturdy branch where he could see his sister more clearly. Mariana was sitting cross-legged, her face set in a scowl as she looked out over the pond. Her peach basket lay beside her on the branch, her earlier distress evident in her frown.

"Luca!" 

Mariana’s eyes widened in surprise as she spotted her brother clambering onto the branch. Her anger seemed to dissolve into confusion and concern as she saw him. "What are you doing here?"

Luca, still catching his breath, looked at her with wide eyes. "I was worried about you. I didn’t know where you went and I... I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Mariana's face softened, a mixture of guilt and relief washing over her. She shifted closer to him on the branch, her usual stubbornness giving way to a rare moment of vulnerability. "I’m sorry, Luca. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just... upset."

Luca, still holding onto the branch for support, reached out to her. “It’s okay. Let’s just go back home. Mama and Papa are looking for us.”

Mariana’s face was a mixture of stubborn defiance and lingering hurt as she sat perched on the tree branch. “I don’t want to come down,” she said firmly, her voice echoing with a blend of frustration and sadness. “I feel like I’ve been lied to, and I can’t just trust a man I’ve only just met.”

Luca, his small face crumpled in thought, nodded in agreement. “You’re right,” he said softly, sitting beside her. The sky above was painted with vibrant hues, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of ripe peaches. Mariana’s basket, left behind in her hasty climb, contained a few juicy fruits. She offered one to Luca, and they began to eat in companionable silence, the warmth of the peaches contrasting with the cool afternoon air.

They sat together, their quiet conversation and the occasional rustle of leaves were the only sounds. Suddenly, a deep, unfamiliar voice cut through the calm, calling out their names. The voice was deeper and carried a hesitant note, far different from their mother’s familiar, comforting tone.

Mariana’s eyes widened with alarm. “Luca, stay quiet and don’t move,” she whispered urgently, her eyes scanning their surroundings. The rustling of leaves indicated that someone was approaching, their steps growing closer.

Luca nodded, his small body tensing with nervousness as he kept his gaze fixed on his sister. Mariana carefully maneuvered up the tree, her movements cautious yet determined. She reached a higher branch, peering down through the dense foliage to get a better view of their uninvited guest.

As she settled into a more secure position, she spotted Shanks moving with purpose toward the tree. His tall figure was unmistakable even through the green shrubbery, and she could see the concern etched on his face. He had noticed the sandals at the trunk and was now inching closer, his gaze darting around as he tried to locate her.

“Damn it,” Mariana heard Shanks mutter under his breath as he drew nearer. She quickly covered her mouth, her eyes wide as she remembered the rule about cursing. Luca tsked, “That’s 1 berrie in the swear jar!”

“Shh!” Mariana whispered urgently, her eyes locking with Luca’s. He gave a small, frightened nod, trying to remain as still as possible.

They watched in tense silence as Shanks approached the trunk, his footsteps growing nearer. His movements were deliberate, yet he seemed uncertain of his surroundings, his usual confident demeanor momentarily shaken.

Shanks crouched by the base of the tree, looking up with a mixture of concern and desperation. His eyes scanned the branches, searching for any sign of the children. Mariana could see the strain on his face, the worry etched deeply into his features.

She held her breath, her heart racing as she tried to stay as silent as possible. Luca, too, was frozen beside her, his little fingers gripping the branch for support. The quiet of the forest seemed to intensify the situation, every rustle and whisper magnifying the tension of the moment.

Shanks, crouched at the base of the tree, caught the murmur of conversation coming from the branches above. He tilted his head, a wry smile curling his lips as he heard the whispered exchange between his children.

"He’s got one arm; I don’t think he can do much damage,” Luca said quietly.

“You know I can hear you both, right?” Shanks called out, his voice tinged with amusement. The children’s startled faces appeared through the foliage, their hands flying to cover their mouths in surprise.

“Also, it's quite hurtful to mock your father, don’t you think?” he continued, trying to keep the tone light.

Mariana’s eyes narrowed as she peered down at him. “We don’t know you!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the quiet woods. Shanks’s heart ached at the sound of her. The resemblance to you was undeniable—her hair was the same length and texture, though the auburn hue hinted at his own blood. 

She wore a necklace of small sea shells, a gift he had given you long ago. His daughter, fierce and lovely, carrying both your fire and his own mischievous glint.

Shanks’s gaze softened as he looked at Mariana. “Please, come down,” he requested gently. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m here to prove myself. I’m your father, and I care deeply about both of you.”

Mariana shook her head firmly. “I don’t talk to strangers,” she said, her voice resolute.

Luca, sitting quietly beside her, finally spoke up in a hushed whisper. “Mariana, I do want to go home to Mama soon.”

The mention of their mother made Mariana’s face soften just a fraction, but she remained resolute in her decision. Shanks could see the internal conflict in her eyes as she turned her gaze back to him.

"So, you are up there, Luca?" Shanks called up, a hint of humor in his voice. "Your mother is quite displeased with what you did to your bedding."

Luca’s cheeks flushed a deep red, matching his hair as he shifted uncomfortably. Mariana shot him a questioning look, her eyes wide with surprise.

Shanks’s smile widened as he continued to speak to them, trying to ease the tension. “I assure you, I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here to be part of your lives and to make things right. I understand it’s a lot to take in, but I promise you I’m here with good intentions.”

Mariana’s eyes flared with anger again as she looked down at Shanks. “Get lost,” she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Shanks’s expression turned serious, though his eyes remained warm and sincere. “I’m not going anywhere until I can prove to you that I’m not just some stranger. I want to show you that I’m your father and that I’m here to make things right. It’s not just about me; it’s about us.”

Luca, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and concern, looked up at Shanks and then to his sister. He knew how much their mother meant to them, and he could see the pain in Mariana’s eyes. He wished he could help bridge the gap between them, but for now, he could only stay silent and hope that Shanks’s words would eventually reach her.

Mariana took a deep breath, her grip tightening on the branch she was perched on. She wanted to believe him, to trust that he was sincere, but the shock of the revelation and the hurt of feeling deceived were still fresh. She glanced at Luca, who was now sitting quietly, his small face full of uncertainty.

Shanks stood at the base of the tree, his eyes never leaving Mariana’s. He knew he had to be patient and earn their trust, one step at a time. 

Mariana’s emotions churned like a storm inside her as she watched Shanks stand below her. Her mind raced through the snapshots of her life: the vibrant memories of her grandfather Garp, with his dog-eared hat and tales of adventure; her secret dreams of sailing the world with Luca as her loyal first mate; and most importantly, the unwavering love and dedication you had poured into raising her and Luca alone. 

You, her mother, who had never faltered in her devotion or patience, even when faced with countless questions about a father she had never met.

As these thoughts swirled, Mariana felt hot tears sting her eyes. She squeezed her hands into tight fists, a gesture she had learned from you during moments of frustration. With a deep breath, she let go of her palms, her resolve hardening like the iron will she had seen in you so many times before.

Luca’s gentle touch on her hand broke through her turmoil. She opened her eyes to see him looking up at her with a mix of concern and hope. His small, comforting presence anchored her thoughts, and she took a moment to adjust his ponytail so it fell neatly around his face. The sight of her little brother’s earnest expression gave her the strength to make a decision.

“You may go with him if you wish,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “But I will stay here until Mom comes to get me.”

Luca’s eyes lit up with a grateful, albeit anxious, smile. He nodded, his small hand giving hers a final squeeze before he turned to descend the tree. As he made his way down, he passed by Shanks, who watched the interaction with a mixture of hope and sadness.

Luca paused briefly to pat Shanks’s knee, a gesture both encouraging and endearing. “Good luck,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before hurrying back down the path and disappearing from sight.

Shanks’s heart ached as he watched his son run off. The warmth in Luca’s small touch was a balm to his troubled heart, but it only served to deepen the ache of the gap between him and Mariana. With a deep breath, he turned his gaze back to Mariana, who was now perched high in the tree, her silhouette framed by the setting sun.

Mariana took one last look at her father before turning her gaze back to the forest. The tension in her shoulders began to ease as she considered the possibility of embracing this new chapter in her life, yet the fear of change and the longing for her mother’s presence kept her rooted in place.

Shanks stood at the base of the tree, his red hair glowing under the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. His one arm rested casually at his side, while the other, with its practiced grace, caught the peach Mariana had thrown at him. He gave her a warm, reassuring smile and a friendly wave, trying to bridge the chasm of uncertainty between them.

“Can I come up?” he asked, his voice carrying the warmth of a father who was eager to reconnect.

Mariana, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed, responded skeptically. “How are you going to do that with just one arm?”

Shanks shrugged, his smile never fading. “I’ve learned to live with it. It’s not the easiest thing, but I manage.”

Mariana’s eyes remained cautious. “No, you can’t come up. Just have Mom come get me.”

Shanks shook his head gently. “No, I’m going to stay right here until you come down or let me come up.”

Determined, Mariana tossed another peach, aiming for his head. This time, Shanks sidestepped with a fluid motion and caught the fruit effortlessly with his one hand. He held it up, examining it with a grin before looking back at Mariana.

“Nice try,” he said. “But I’ve had a lot of practice with dodging things.”

‘Your mothers bullets, Buggy’s knives. Mihawk's stare.’

Mariana huffed in response but couldn’t hide a small, hesitant smile. Shanks took this as a sign of progress and began to speak, his tone sincere and gentle.

“So, how’s your day been?” he asked, trying to draw her out with friendly conversation.

Mariana shrugged. “It’s been weird.”

Shanks nodded, understandingly. “I can imagine. And I know there’s been a lot of confusion and hurt. Your mother, she had her reasons for keeping me a secret. It wasn’t right, but she did it to protect you and Luca from the dangers of the world.”

Mariana’s eyes softened a bit, though skepticism still lingered. “Why is the world so cruel then?”

Shanks sighed, looking up through the branches as if seeking an answer from the sky. “I’m not too sure. The world can be harsh and unforgiving. But I believe there’s still hope. I’ve met some very good people in my lifetime, people who’ve shown me that there’s kindness and love to be found even in the darkest places.”

Mariana’s voice wavered slightly. “Is Mom one of those good people?”

Shanks’s eyes softened even more, his heart swelling with affection.

“Yes, she is. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. I remember when she was a young marine cadet, separated from her ship during a storm. My crew and I picked her up. We sailed around the world together for three years.”

Mariana’s curiosity piqued. “What was she like?”

Shanks’s face lit up with nostalgia. “She had this incredible light about her. Everywhere we went, she brought joy to the people we helped. Rebuilding bridges, repairing docks, fixing windows, finding lost livestock, and even helping with laundry—she never stopped. She had this unwavering spirit and kindness that drew me to her.”

Mariana listened intently, a mixture of fascination and sadness in her eyes. “Why did you let her go?”

Shanks’s smile grew bittersweet. “I’ve always secretly hoped she’d return. She had a calling, and I understood that. But I’ve never stopped hoping.”

Mariana furrowed her brow. “If she’s a vice admiral, why hasn’t she arrested you or Uncle Luffy or Mr. Mihawk?”

Shanks chuckled softly. “Your mother believes in justice, but she doesn’t agree with everything the Marines say they believe in. She has her own sense of right and wrong, which often aligns more with what her heart says.”

Mariana tilted her head, her curiosity growing. “That sounds like piracy.”

Shanks laughed heartily. “It does, doesn’t it? But she always refuses to admit it.”

Mariana’s sniffles became more audible, and Shanks’s heart ached seeing her distress. He glanced around and spotted her sandals lying by the tree. With a gentle smile, he picked them up and tucked them into his belt.

“I think it’s time I make my way up to you,” he said, determination in his voice.

Shanks began climbing the tree with careful, deliberate movements, his one arm working in tandem with his strong legs. The branches creaked slightly under his weight, but he moved with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to navigating tricky terrains.

As he neared Mariana, he could see her expression shifting from wary to curious. He took his time, ensuring every movement was gentle, to avoid startling her further. Finally, he reached her, settling on a sturdy branch beside her.

Mariana looked at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of emotions. Shanks extended his hand to her, his gaze steady and kind.

“Let’s talk,” he said softly, “and I promise, I’ll be here for as long as it takes to make things right.”

Mariana sat in the tree, silent at first, her breath shaky as she tried to steady herself. Shanks, now beside her, remained still, allowing her the space she needed. He watched her, marveling at the uncanny resemblance she shared with you.

Her auburn hair, a mix of yours and his, caught the light, while her eyes—those wide, vast, star-like eyes—glistened with unshed tears. A delicate seashell necklace that hung from her neck, the one he’d given you years ago, was an instant thought of the bond that he had unknowingly shared with her all this time.

His chest tightened at the thought. This was his daughter. His daughter, the one he'd imagined countless times but never truly believed he’d have.

Mariana’s lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. Instead, her face crumpled, and soft, quiet sobs escaped her as she hid her face in her hands. Shanks’s heart clenched at the sight—he remembers how you do the same when you were overwhelmed, hiding your emotions behind your hands. 

It was like looking at a part of you, vulnerable and raw, and it pulled at him in a way that he hadn’t expected.

"Now, now," he murmured softly, his voice gentle but carrying a sense of reassurance, "we can’t have this."

Shanks shifted slightly, reaching across the branches to move the basket of peaches higher up to ensure it wouldn’t fall. His movements were slow and deliberate as he scooted over to the base of Mariana’s branch.

With a careful, practiced ease, he held out his arm, the only one he had left, offering it to her like an anchor.

Mariana’s tear-filled gaze met his, her expression hesitant. She looked at him like a wary stray cat, unsure whether to trust him or bolt. Her eyes flitted between his outstretched arm and his face, weighing her options, her small body tense with uncertainty. Shanks could feel his own heart beating harder, but he kept his gaze soft, patient. He didn’t rush her, didn’t demand anything. 

He just waited.

Finally, with a quiet resolve, Mariana slowly, almost tentatively, shifted toward him. She crawled carefully into the crook of his arm, her small frame pressing into his chest as if testing the waters of this unfamiliar embrace. As soon as she settled against him, Shanks propped his leg up to provide her with more stability, creating a makeshift seat for her as they sat among the branches.

He wrapped his arm around her securely, his hand resting gently on her back as he felt her small body tremble with the weight of her emotions. She slumped against him, her tears quiet but present, and Shanks held her close, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness he hadn’t felt in years. He pressed his cheek gently to the crown of her head, feeling the soft strands of her hair against his skin, and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Mariana’s quiet sobs gradually slowed, though she didn’t pull away. Shanks simply held her, rocking her slightly as they sat nestled in the tree, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the distant sound of the wind through the branches.

The world around them seemed to fade as the moment stretched, the silence broken only by the occasional rustling of the tree and the soft sniffles from Mariana.

“It’s alright, love,” Shanks whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here now.”

For the first time in a long while, Shanks allowed himself to believe that things could be different—that maybe, just maybe, they could start anew.

Shanks shifted slightly on the branch, feeling the rough bark press against his back as he gathered his thoughts. His one arm tightened around Mariana protectively, and he tilted his head down to meet her eyes. She was still slumped against his chest, picking at a leaf, her little hands shaking slightly. He could feel the tension in her body, the conflict of emotions swirling inside her like a storm.

“I’ve seen you before,” she said quietly, her eyes distant as if replaying the scene in her mind.

Shanks watched Mariana carefully as she spoke, her voice soft and tentative, as though she was still piecing together memories from the past. His heart ached with every word, but he kept his expression calm and gentle, letting her guide the conversation at her own pace.

“Really?” Shanks asked, keeping his voice low, curious but patient.

Mariana nodded. “Yes, in her photos.”

“Tell me,” he said softly, encouraging her to continue.

Mariana shifted in his lap, sitting up a little straighter, though she still picked nervously at the leaf in her hands. "I was small, about five," she began, her fingers tearing small pieces of the leaf as she spoke. 

"When I was playing in her room. Mama was cleaning out her closet, and she set a box of photos down on the bed. She began to match faces to the people from her stories, but she had a large picture of you and her together."

Shanks felt a flicker of surprise, but he didn’t interrupt. His mind raced back to those days, trying to recall the moment she was describing.

"You had a funny jacket on," she continued, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "And both arms, and they were wrapped around her. She was wearing her earrings and vice admiral cap. It looked like it was taken in a church."

Shanks chuckled softly, his gaze softening as he remembered that day. "I think I remember that photo," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

"Is that when you asked about me?" he asked gently, watching her closely.

"Yeah," Mariana replied, her eyes flickering up to meet his for a brief second before looking away again. "She was really emotional when she found that. Said she didn’t even remember taking it."

Shanks frowned slightly, the weight of her words settling in. He could imagine you finding that photo, the flood of memories and emotions that must have come with it. He wished he could have been there to see your reaction, to share that moment.

"What happened after that?" he asked quietly, wanting to know more.

Mariana hesitated for a moment, her fingers still picking at the leaf until it was nothing more than tiny shreds in her hands. "I found more photos of you," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "And an old bounty poster."

Shanks’ breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t realized you had kept those. His bounty posters had always been a point of pride for him—proof of his reputation, his strength—but knowing his daughter had seen them, knowing what they represented, made his chest tighten.

"When I asked about it," Mariana continued, her voice trembling slightly, "she couldn’t tell me the full truth. And when she picked me up after school, all the wanted posters with your face were gone."

Shanks sighed deeply, reaching out to tilt her face toward him gently, his calloused thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"I knew I had a father," she whispered, her voice breaking, "but I didn’t know who my father was."

Her words struck him like a dagger. He had always prided himself on being free, a pirate without chains or obligations, but now, seeing the pain in his daughter’s eyes, he realized how much he had lost—how much they both had lost.

"You’re mother was scared," Shanks said after a long moment, his voice thick with emotion but steady. "In the eyes of the world government, we could all be separated and killed."

Mariana slumped against his chest again, her small body trembling slightly as she processed his words. Shanks ran a soothing hand through her hair, letting her feel his warmth, his presence.

"She may have a personality opposite of mine," Shanks continued, his voice soft yet firm, "but let me make one thing perfectly clear."

Mariana tilted her head up slightly, her tear-streaked face still filled with uncertainty.

"What’s that?" she asked, her voice fragile.

Shanks met her gaze, his eyes burning with sincerity. "She wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t love you. Now, did she make a mistake?" He paused, nodding as if to affirm his own words.

"Yes, yes she did. I myself didn’t know of you and Luca until I walked through that door. But…" He leaned down slightly, bringing their foreheads close, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She wants to apologize. She wants to make things right."

Mariana’s lip quivered, and she looked down, her fingers tracing absent shapes on the bark of the tree branch they sat on. "What if the danger does come?" she asked, her voice so small it was almost lost in the wind.

Shanks sighed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I’ll handle it," he promised, his voice low but filled with unwavering resolve.

Mariana blinked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "How?" she asked, her voice breaking.

He sighed softly, the sound barely audible over the rustle of leaves. He leaned his head back, glancing up at the patches of sky visible through the thick canopy, searching for words that would reassure her, though none came easily. Mariana shifted slightly in his lap, her small fingers still picking at the leaf she’d plucked, her emotions evident in every fidget. 

She waited, eyes on the horizon, the soft remnants of tears drying on her cheeks.

Shanks exhaled softly, brushing a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. The wind rustled through the leaves above them, casting dappled sunlight across their faces. Shanks stared into the canopy, watching the light dance for a moment, then lowered his gaze to his daughter.

"How?" she repeated, her voice a fragile whisper, as though she didn’t really expect an answer. Her eyes, so much like yours, flickered up to him briefly before darting hardening again, unsure, lost.

"By any means necessary," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made Mariana look up at him again. This time, he held her gaze. "I’ve made a life out of protecting what’s important to me, and right now, there’s nothing more important than you, your brother, and your mother."

Gently, he placed his large hand over hers, stilling her restless movements. "How will I handle it?" he repeated her question, his voice quiet yet steady, trying to find a balance between fatherly wisdom and the raw honesty his daughter deserved. 

"Well, I’ve been through a lot. Fought more battles than I care to remember, and I've had to protect people I love. Your mother, she was no exception." He tilted his head, peering down at her.

Mariana kept her face angled away from him, biting her lower lip, clearly caught between anger and the need for comfort. Shanks knew that look—he’d seen it in the mirror on countless occasions.

"I’ll tell you a secret," he continued, offering a small, warm smile despite the seriousness in his voice.

"I wasn’t always the most… reliable man. But when it comes to family, when it comes to protecting the people I love, I don’t run away from the fight. I face it head-on." Mariana finally looked up at him, her eyes still red but full of curiosity.

"But what if you can’t win?"

Shanks chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of self-deprecating humor. "That’s a good question. Your mother asked me that once, too. And I gave her the same answer I’ll give you." He gently took her chin between his fingers, guiding her gaze to his, soft yet firm.

"It doesn’t matter if I win or lose, Mariana. What matters is that I don’t stop fighting. Not for her, not for you, and not for Luca."

She blinked, processing his words, before glancing away again. "Why didn't you find out before?...."

Her question hung heavy between them, and Shanks let out another long breath, his eyes darkening with regret.

"That’s something I’ve asked myself every second since I found out about you and Luca. I could give you a thousand excuses, but the truth is... I didn’t know. I should’ve been there, and for that, I’m sorry. Truly."

Mariana paused, her fingers curling around his hand for just a moment, as if testing whether she could trust this man who had appeared so suddenly in her life. She dropped her gaze again. "I don’t know if I can forgive you yet."

"And you don’t have to," Shanks said, his voice as gentle as his touch. "But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to."

The weight of his promise settled in the air, a quiet but sincere offering. Mariana glanced at his hand, seeing the missing limb and the scars etched into his skin, living proof of the life he’d led without them.

She could feel the genuine warmth in his words, a vulnerability she hadn’t expected from someone she thought of as distant and unattainable.

A soft breeze passed through the branches above them, carrying with it the faint scent of saltwater, a reminder of the world beyond the tree they sat in. Mariana wiped her face with the back of her hand, the quiet calm finally starting to settle over her. "If the danger does come," she whispered, her voice wavering, 

"I want to fight too. I want to be strong, like Mama."

Shanks smiled, a proud gleam in his eyes. "You already are, Mariana. You’re just like her—brave, fierce, and full of love. And if you want to fight, I’ll teach you. But remember, strength isn’t just about battle. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to ask for help, when to protect the ones you love without raising a fist."

She mulled over his words, leaning into the solid comfort of his chest. "And Luca?" she murmured after a while, her voice small.

"Luca's got a good heart," Shanks said, his arm tightening around her. "Just like you. He’ll grow up to be strong too, in his own way. And we'll make sure he knows he’s got people who’ll protect him, no matter what."

Mariana’s lip trembled, and she bit down on it to stop the quiver. She tried to speak, but her voice broke, so instead, she dropped the leaf she had been fiddling with and pressed her small hands into his chest, leaning into him fully. Shanks rubbed her back gently, letting her take her time, waiting for her to continue when she was ready.

"I just… I don’t know if I can trust you," she whispered after a long moment, her voice barely audible.

Shanks nodded, the motion slow and deliberate. "That’s fair," he replied, his tone soft but firm. "I haven’t been here. I haven’t been the father you deserve. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere."

Mariana sniffled, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. She shifted slightly in his lap, her fingers tracing the worn fabric of his shirt, her mind clearly still wrestling with everything.

"You know…" Shanks began, his voice lightening just a touch, "your mother threw a peach at me the first time we argued too." He gave her a crooked smile, hoping to coax one from her.

Mariana blinked up at him, her lips twitching faintly, but the sadness still lingered in her eyes. "Did she miss too?" she asked, her voice catching slightly as she tried to play along.

Shanks chuckled, a deep, warm sound that rumbled through his chest. "Nope, she hit me square in the face." He tapped his nose with a playful grin. "And it hurt."

A small giggle escaped Mariana before she could stop it, and Shanks felt a flicker of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He kept his arm secure around her as she wiped at her face again, the tension in her body slowly loosening.

"But why did Mama lie?" she asked, her voice small again as the weight of her thoughts came rushing back. "Why couldn’t she just tell me the truth?"

Shanks sighed, his smile fading as he looked out at the horizon. "Because, sometimes," he began, "the truth is scarier than the lie. Your mother… she did everything to keep you safe, to protect you from a world that’s not always kind."

His voice softened even more as he turned back to her. "She thought keeping the truth from you would protect you from that pain. She didn’t want you to grow up too fast, to worry about things children shouldn’t have to worry about."

Mariana mulled over his words, her fingers idly playing with the shells on her necklace, the ones that had once belonged to you. "But now I know," she murmured. "And it hurts."

Shanks pressed his forehead gently to hers, closing his eyes. "I know," he whispered. "And I’m sorry. But the truth doesn’t have to hurt forever, Mariana. It can help us grow, help us understand each other better."

She took a shaky breath, then nodded slightly, though her uncertainty still hung in the air between them. Shanks could feel it—her hesitation, her reluctance to fully trust him, but he didn’t push. He wouldn’t force her to feel something she wasn’t ready to.

Instead, he pulled her closer, cradling her as if she were still the small child he’d only just learned about, the one whose life he had missed so much of.

"And if danger comes," Shanks added, his voice steady and sure, "I’ll be here. Every step of the way. You’ll never face it alone."

Mariana looked up at him, her wet eyes reflecting the sky. "Promise?"

Shanks smiled softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "I promise."

Mariana nodded, the fight slowly leaving her tense posture. She leaned her head against Shanks' chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She still had doubts, still held onto her hurt, but for the first time, she felt something else too—a sliver of hope.

They stayed like that for a while, the world around them quiet, save for the wind and the distant sounds of the village. Shanks didn’t push her for more, content to let her process everything at her own pace.

Finally, Mariana broke the silence. "Okay," she whispered. "You can stay... for now."

Shanks smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "That’s all I ask."

They stayed there like that for a long moment. Happy to just exist together and silently enjoy each other's company. Mariana had taken to holding Shank’s hand and he was watching her with a soft smile of his own. 

Until they heard a loud crunch at the bottom of their tree. 

Shanks tensed at the rustling sound, his instincts taking over, and he quickly pulled Mariana closer to his chest, shielding her with one arm before reaching up. His fingers wrapped around the first object he found—a ripe peach from the basket above them.

Without hesitation, he hurled it in the direction of the noise, a practiced flick of his wrist sending the fruit flying. A familiar, irritated voice broke through the tension. 

"Ow!"

Shanks grinned despite himself, recognizing the voice immediately. The peach was returned with surprising speed, and he only barely ducked in time, catching the fruit’s impact against the back of his shoulder instead. Mariana giggled, steadying him as Shanks rubbed his shoulder.

Before he could protest further, your head poked through the thick canopy of leaves, Luca perched in one arm. Shanks’ face softened immediately, his previous tension melting away into a look of affectionate guilt.

“You’ve got some nerve,” you said, your tone teasing but sharp, though the corner of your mouth twitched like you were fighting a smile.

“It was an accident, my love!” Shanks quickly replied, raising his hands in mock surrender, flashing you that irresistible, crooked grin he always wore when he was trying to get out of trouble.

"Uh-huh," you shot back, not letting him off that easily.

Your gaze shifted, assessing Mariana carefully. Her nose was a bit red, and the drying streaks of tears lined her face, but she looked more settled, calmer now.

Climbing onto the branch beside them, you allowed Luca to squirm out of your hold and into his sister’s lap fully, giving them space. He sat there happily, his tiny fingers curling into Mariana’s dress, unaware of the emotional storm that had just passed between her and Shanks.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat down, finally realizing what was in front of you—the sight of your children, together with their father for the first time, side by side.

It was surreal. The way the mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting warm, golden patches of light over them, made the moment feel frozen in time. Mariana’s tear-streaked face looked so much like Shanks’ right now, her features carrying his softness and strength, while Luca’s wide eyes gleamed with the same mischievous spark that you had seen in Shanks a thousand times.

Funny how you both saw the other in your children. 

You could feel your ears burning as the emotions swirled in your chest. Shanks, always perceptive, didn’t miss a thing. His eyes flicked to you, and his grin softened into something more knowing, more tender. He raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the look on your face.

"Feeling a bit strange, huh?" Shanks teased gently, though there was a deeper understanding in his gaze. He reached over and brushed his fingers lightly against your arm, the touch both comforting and familiar, as if reminding you that you weren’t alone in this moment of overwhelming realization.

You bit your lip, your eyes darting between him and your children, finally meeting his gaze again. The teasing sparkle in his eyes had faded into something softer, something that mirrored the way you were feeling—an acknowledgment of just how much this moment meant.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "A bit."

Shanks chuckled, low and affectionate, before leaning over to press a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you closer to him on the branch, his warmth grounding you.

You sighed, leaning into him just a little, your eyes still locked on your children. Luca had reached up to tug at one of Mariana’s curls, laughing as it bounced back. Mariana smiled softly, her eyes still red but clearer now, her hand gently holding her brother's.

Finally, you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. Here they were, together. And so were you. The people who held your heart were finally connected in a way that seemed almost impossible not so long ago.

Shanks, sensing the shift, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, "We’ve got a lot to figure out, but for now… let’s just enjoy this."

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat too tight with emotion, but you managed a smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. In this moment, the future and all its uncertainties didn’t seem so daunting. You had them. You had each other. 

And that was all you ever wanted. 

Luca began to tug at your sleeve, grumbling about his rumbling stomach, you gave him a reassuring smile before looking toward Shanks.

"Alright, you two, go on down and get some food," you instructed, waving them off. "I'll be down in a bit."

Shanks, ever the tease, flashed a grin as he hoisted Luca up onto his shoulders. "You girls be nice to each other, now," he called over his shoulder as they began their descent from the tree.

You and Mariana exchanged a look, both of you narrowing your eyes at him in a glare before simultaneously huffing out a small laugh. Shanks glanced back, winking, before continuing down the path, Luca’s hands playfully tousling his hair. You watched as they disappeared, Luca’s joyous giggles mixing with the crunch of leaves beneath Shanks’ boots. The sight of your son perched high on his father’s shoulders, laughing freely, tugged at your heartstrings. 

They looked so natural together—in fact, as if this moment had always been meant to be.

You barely had a chance to turn back toward Mariana before you felt the weight of her body suddenly collapse into yours, her arms thrown around your waist. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as you both sank into the tree, rocking gently back and forth. The quiet creaking of the branch and the distant birdsong surrounded you as you cradled her.

You buried your face in her thick hair, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Mariana.”

For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, and it was as if she was little again, the same way she used to cling to you after a bad dream or when the world had been too much for her. You felt her grip tighten, her breath coming in uneven bursts as she fought back tears. Her body trembled slightly, and you rocked her gently, like you used to, as if swaying could soothe the storm inside her.

"I’m sorry too," she mumbled into your shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. "For running off. I just… I didn’t know what to do."

Pulling back just enough to look at her face, you saw the way she was trying so hard to hold it together, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. It almost broke you. You wanted to put on your vice admiral face, the one that held everything in line, but not here. Not with her. Mariana didn’t need that façade—she needed you, her mom, raw and honest.

“Your feelings are valid,” you whispered, cupping her face in your hands. “You have every right to be upset, sweetheart. I wasn’t honest with you, and that’s on me.”

Her lips quivered as she met your gaze, and you could see the inner battle she was waging against her tears. You could feel it in your own chest too, that deep ache that came with the vulnerability of motherhood. You pulled her close again, resting your chin on top of her head as you fought your own tears.

After a moment, you spoke, your voice low and gentle. "Your father and I… we live in very different worlds. We’re on opposite sides of the same coin. But, Mariana, none of that matters when it comes to how we feel about each other. We love each other—deeply—and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it. I’m proud of our family. I’m honored to be your mother and Luca’s."

There was a pause, and then Mariana pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with surprise. "What about the Marines?" she asked, her voice small but curious.

You let out a short, amused laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "They can kiss my ass if they know what’s good for them."

“MOM!”

“IT’S TRUE!”

Mariana blinked, taken aback, before bursting into laughter. The sound of her joy filled the air, and it was like a weight had lifted. The tension, the confusion, it all seemed to dissipate in that moment.

"I forgive you, Mama," she said softly, her smile breaking through the remnants of her tears. Then her expression turned mischievous as she teased, "But seriously, I mean, Dad must’ve been a real looker back in the day, huh?"

You shot her a playful glare, swatting her arm lightly. “Hush. He still is.”

Before you could say more, a familiar voice called out from behind you. “That’s good to know!”

You whipped your head around to hear Shanks’ voice echoing through the trees. Both you and Mariana immediately yelled in unison, "Were you eavesdropping?"

Shanks’ loud, hearty laugh echoed in the clearing. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide your smile as you offered your hand to Mariana, who took it gladly. You helped her carefully down from the tree, the peach basket swinging lightly in her other hand.

The moment you both reached the ground, you barely had time to catch your breath before a strong arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly into the air.

“Shanks!” 

You yelped, half in surprise, half in laughter, as you were spun around. Behind you, you heard his grunt of effort as he hoisted you and Mariana both off the ground.

“I’ve got my family, don’t I?” he said with a wide grin, spinning you around with playful ease.

‘Family.’

Before you could protest, all three of you tumbled—laughing, kicking, and squealing—into the nearby frog pond. The cool water splashed up around you as you landed in a heap, Shanks' arms still wrapped protectively around you and Mariana. The frogs let out startled croaks, hopping away in every direction as you all landed with an ungraceful splash.

Water droplets clung to your hair and clothes as you gasped, momentarily stunned, before the laughter bubbled up again. Shanks’ deep, rumbling laugh mixed with Mariana’s bright giggles as she kicked her legs in the shallow water, and even you couldn’t help but join in.

In that moment, soaked and tangled together in the pond, with your children and Shanks all around you, everything felt just right. It didn’t matter how complicated life was or how many challenges lay ahead—right here, right now, you have everything you ever wanted. 

The three of you stumbled out of the pond, laughing and soaked to the bone, water dripping from your hair and clothes. Shanks shook his head like a dog, sending a fresh spray of droplets everywhere as Mariana shrieked and tried to dodge. Luca, ever the quick one, scooped up her sandals before grinning at you with  his mischievous eyes.

"Race you home!" he shouted before taking off down the path, his little feet splashing in the mud as he ran ahead.

Without missing a beat, you broke into a sprint after him, your wet clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Shanks was right behind you, his deep voice calling out, “Not fair! I’m at a disadvantage!” He exaggerated a limp, clutching at his missing arm in mock despair.

You threw a glance over your shoulder, smirking as you shoved him playfully. “You’ve still got one arm to brandish a sword or a gun, so you’re doing just fine!” Shanks, ever the dramatic, stumbled back into a large pumpkin, shouting about abuse of the disabled.

Laughter rang out between you as the kids raced ahead, disappearing toward the familiar path leading to the home you shared. Home. The word felt right, a warmth spreading through your chest. It wasn’t just a place—it was where the four of you belonged, together.

Once inside, everyone scrambled to get out of their soaking clothes. Shanks made a great show of peeling off his shirt, wringing it out theatrically, earning a giggle from Mariana and a groan from Luca as he darted into his room. You quickly ushered the children to their respective rooms, helping them into dry clothes before heading to your own.

You exchanged a quick glance with Shanks as you changed, his grin warm and teasing as usual. “Better hurry,” he said. “The crew’s waiting.”

After everyone had dried off and dressed, you led the children down to the beach, where the Red-Haired Pirates were gathered, laughing and drinking. The sight brought a familiar comfort, but today, something was different. 

Today, they weren’t just Shanks’ crew—they were your crew too.

As you approached, you noticed the unexpected sight of another crew mingling with Shanks’ men. Straw Hats and... was that Mihawk? Your brows lifted slightly at the irony of such a gathering. Luffy’s wide grin was unmistakable as he spotted you first, with Ace right behind him, their gazes lighting up with recognition. But then your eyes landed on someone else—a figure with blue hair and a ridiculous red nose, hunched over in laughter.

“Oh, not the blue-haired freak…” you muttered under your breath, sighing as Buggy doubled over, cackling so hard you thought he might actually pee himself. Alvida shot him a death glare, threatening to splash him with her drink if he didn’t rein it in.

But before you could react to the odd combination of characters, the questions started flying. “Who are these children?” “Shanks has kids?! THE Vice admiral has kids?!” Voices swirled around as everyone pointed between you, Mariana, and Luca.

Shanks, always one to command a crowd, raised his one hand, grinning wide. “I’m actually a married man,” he announced proudly, his arm coming around your waist to pull you close. “This is my family.”

The declaration caused an immediate stir. Luffy looked like his mind had been blown, and Ace—sweet Ace—seemed momentarily hurt before you locked eyes with him, mouthing a soft apology. He gave you a brief nod, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile before he walked over and picked up Mariana and Luca, spinning them around with joy.

Mihawk, always composed, looked at you intently for a moment, his piercing gaze softened by something like respect. He offered a small, approving nod. “Congratulations,” he said coolly, turning to your children. 

“Obey your parents and grow strong.”

You barely had time to respond before Buggy’s voice cut through the din. “You got married without telling me?!” His face was red, not from anger but from sheer disbelief, as he jabbed an accusatory finger at Shanks. 

“Kids?! You didn’t even tell me you had kids!”

The two men were soon bickering like old friends, the insults flying fast as Buggy flailed dramatically, still laughing as if the whole situation was some cosmic joke. Alvida threatened to dump her drink on his head again, rolling her eyes at his antics.

Your eyes drifted across the crowd and landed on Luffy and Ace, with Uta and Sabo not far behind. A wave of affection hit you as you looked at them—your other “children,” the ones you had loved and cared for in their own way. Luffy was still grinning like a madman, and Uta waved excitedly, while Sabo flashed you his warm smile.

You crossed the short distance to Benn, who had been standing off to the side, a quiet observer to the chaos. He met your gaze with a knowing smile. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words filled with years of unspoken gratitude. “For everything.”

Benn chuckled softly, patting your back as he returned the embrace. “You’re a fine lady,” he said gently. “And a wonderful mother. It was my honor to serve you all these years.”

You smirked, pulling back just enough to smack his arm lightly.

"Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Benn.”

Before he could respond, Shanks’ voice rang out over the celebrating crowd.

“Benn! No more hiding secrets with my wife!”

You and Benn exchanged a glance, rolling your eyes as Shanks’ playful accusation echoed across the clearing. You stuck your tongue out at your husband, a grin tugging at your lips.

“Well,” you said, looking around at the gathered pirates and your family, “I think it’s time for a proper celebration.” The excitement in the air was palpable as you made the decision. “How about a bonfire tonight? To celebrate our wedding and our family?”

The cheer that went up was loud and boisterous, filled with the warmth of your crew and friends. As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the thought of the upcoming night filled you with joy.

Tonight, you’d celebrate—not just your marriage, but the long-awaited union of your family. 

'Finally, you thought, as you glanced over at Shanks, who was watching you with that same, familiar grin. 

‘Finally, we're together.’

‘Finally, we're together!’

Officially.

Years have passed and Luffy had found the One Piece and claimed the title of Pirate King, but the world hadn’t stopped moving. It kept spinning, adventures blooming on every horizon. True to his nature, Luffy refused to settle down, his hunger for excitement never dulled.

With his crew by his side, he continued sailing the world, chasing whatever wild dream came next. 

Mihawk, the stoic swordsman, had found his own happiness, his once-lonely island now filled with the laughter of his wife and their growing family. Buggy—who would've thought—was a sensation, performing for adoring fans around the world. His wife was expecting their first child, and he never missed a chance to boast about it to anyone who would listen.

As for the others, many had paired off, found their own partners, and were off on adventures, whether on the seas or on land. The world, freed from the tyranny of the Celestial Dragons, felt a little bit brighter, a little bit freer.

But you? 

You found your peace in a new home tucked away on a hill in a clearing, surrounded by swaying trees and soft breezes, just near enough to the beach that you could always hear the gentle lapping of the waves. 

The house itself had been built by many hands—your friends, your family, all coming together to create a place that felt like home, solid and warm. The ship docked nearby was always ready for the next spontaneous stargazing adventure, a reminder of the sea that would always call to you. But for now, you were content to stay grounded.

Today, you were wearing a flowing white dress that draped over your swollen belly, the fabric glowing softly in the warm light of the setting sun. Your usual combat boots were long forgotten, traded in favor of your husband's larger boots, which provided some relief for your aching feet.

The gentle breeze fluttered the edges of your dress as you sat outside on the porch, basking in the fading warmth of the day.

The house hummed with life. Your children, Mariana and Luca, were down at the beach, their laughter carrying over the waves as they played, waiting for their father to return with dinner. It was the kind of peaceful moment you’d come to treasure, a slice of simple joy in a life that had been anything but simple.

Mariana had taken to sailing with her father and his crew when she could. She was often torn between her love for the sea and her desire to accompany her “other siblings”—Luffy, Uta, Ace, Sabo—on their wild escapades. She had her father’s spirit, free and bold, and you couldn’t help but feel proud every time she set sail.

Luca, on the other hand, had found his calling elsewhere. At his own request, he’d been enrolled in a Marine academy, determined to follow a different path from his father, one of order and law. Shanks, to your surprise, had never been prouder. He spoke of his son’s choices with nothing but admiration, loving that Luca was forging his own way.

And Garp—oh, Garp was positively thrilled at the news of receiving another grandchild to dote over.

Your home had become the heart of every gathering, a place where pirates, marines, and in-between friends could come together, raid your kitchen, and fill the nights with laughter and stories.

Midnight sleepovers were common, and everyone was more than a little protective of you now that you were pregnant again. 

The marines had tried to fire you after your marriage to Shanks, but Luffy—backed by several other influential voices—had quickly put an end to that nonsense. The threats of violence, though well-meaning, had been more than enough to convince the higher-ups to back down.

Your village, the one that had accepted you with open arms all those years ago, remained fiercely loyal. When you revealed the truth about your family—about Shanks, the children, the title of pirate—they hadn’t turned their backs on you. Instead, they accepted your life, standing by your side regardless of titles.

They had outgrown the island and decided to relocate to a larger nearby continent, where they continued to thrive under your guidance.

Now, you sat quietly on the shore, your hands resting on your belly, which felt impossibly large. The white dress you wore caught the last of the sun’s light, giving you an almost ethereal glow as your belly rose like a round, warm balloon.

You smiled softly, watching the way the waves sparkled in the distance.

And right on cue, there he was—Shanks, strolling up from the beach, his signature red hair a mess from the wind. Mariana and Luca spotted him immediately, shrieking with excitement as they raced across the sand to tackle him. He let out a hearty laugh, stumbling back under their enthusiastic hugs, but he didn’t drop the fish he was carrying for dinner.

“Alright, alright!” he chuckled, ruffling Luca’s hair and lifting Mariana into his one arm with ease. “Help me get these fish inside, will you?” The children eagerly took the catch from his hands, dashing toward the house to begin cleaning them for the meal.

Shanks’ eyes followed them for a moment, a smile playing on his lips, before he turned his gaze to you.

He approached slowly, kneeling down beside you. The look he gave you was full of warmth, the kind of love that had only deepened over the years. His hand found yours first, giving it a gentle squeeze before he pressed a kiss to your lips. Then, with the kind of tenderness only he possessed, he placed his warm hand on your belly.

A flood of comfort washed over you as you felt the weight of his palm, grounding you in the moment.

Shanks grinned, his fingers splayed wide over your stomach. “I missed you,” he whispered before leaning down further, pressing a kiss to the top of your belly.

The movement inside you was immediate—your shared child stirring in response to the attention. The warmth that bloomed through you was indescribable, like a slow, happy glow spreading from your core.

Shanks straightened, but his forehead remained pressed to yours, your breaths mingling in the close space between you. “Admiral,” he teased softly, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

“Pirate,” you shot back with a grin, leaning your head against his.

“Wife.”

“Husband.”

He kissed your nose. “Mine.”

You leaned into him, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Yours,” you whispered back, feeling the deep truth in the word.

“Forever,” he murmured, sealing the moment with a kiss to your lips, slow and sweet.

From the house, you could hear Mariana’s voice rising in playful exasperation. “They’re kissing again!”

Luca’s reply came next, louder and full of disgust. “BLAH!”

The two of you broke into laughter, pulling back just enough to glance toward the house, where your children were peeking out from the kitchen window. You could see their exaggerated grimaces from here, and it only made you smile more.

Shanks shook his head, chuckling as he stood up, offering his hand to you. “Come on, let’s go before they start a mutiny.”

You took his hand, rising slowly, your belly heavy but your heart light.

Together, you walked toward the house, where the laughter of your children and the warmth of your home awaited. 

You are happy. 

You are loved. 

You are home.

That wraps it up! Link to part 1 is right here.

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[har-rison-s]

fear or endearment | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: hello people of tumblr. yes, i'm getting on the train of writing for coryolanus snow (save me). he's just so writeable before the 10th games, i feel. after that i lose any touch with him, honestly, idk. bad man. welp! enjoy this little short blurb i thought of while i was at work yesterday (no connection, tho, just day dreaming). happy reading &lt;3

warnings: none except snow's manipulative, calculating personality; this is pre-10th games snow btw

word count: 1,894

gif credit goes to owner &lt;3

“you only like me because i bring you free stuff,” she says, her lips wearing a smile that holds the sadness of the half-joke she just made. it’s only an ironic way of saying the truth, and she thinks him a fool not to admit it. her hands get busy with carefully emptying the messenger bag full of food leftovers and pastries that the kitchen in her house deemed as unworthy for her family.

“not true,” coryolanus says with a gentle shake of his too-perfect head, eyes looking at her instead of raking over the gifts she’s brought. they’ll keep him and his family away from hunger for a week at least, if they plan carefully, “i like you regardless of that.”

she shakes her head with more conviction. it’s one thing to lie to himself about it, it’s another to tell the lie to her face. her face that has seen the brutal truth in people, her eyes that can see through any facade. it’s the reason she doesn’t watch television unless she absolutely necessarily has to – the facade built up around the ugly truth makes her sick to her stomach. “oh, yes, and my dream is to become a peacekeeper.” her sharp tongue responds.

coryolanus considers her words and the sarcastic look on her face, the faint grin she wears. he doesn’t like being confused, and yet she makes him feel that way very often. sarcasm is her companion in every conversation, and coryolanus suspects he might be one of the only people in the world she shows her bare soul and heart to, and even then she shows very little. her rebellious nature, though, is what makes him worried for her. sometimes he thinks he ought to follow her in her ways, even though it wouldn’t be easy. it would also be going against everything he’s fought so hard to have, and would continue to fight for.

coryolanus shakes his head in confusion, his cheeks blushing just the faintest tone of pink and curls trembling along with his head movements. she laughs fruitfully at knowing she made him confused, her head hanging back for a moment. she closes her bag, its contents emptied on coryo’s kitchen table, and looks down on them. “i know you wonder why i say things like that,” she looks up at him again, and coryo nods, his lips bit back in a faint smile, “can’t help it. must be some security mechanism in me, to joke or draw irony in serious matters.” she shuffles herself onto the table’s surface, now getting the view of coryo in front of her instead of having to wring her neck around every time to just look at him standing beside her. coryo nods again and smiles wider. “sometimes i want to shut up, but i just can’t seem to. and that tends to get me in trouble quite a lot. you know that well.” 

ah, yes, her rebellious nature that gets in the way of her education and reputation up-keeping. he might just be her only friend at school, because no one wants to associate themselves with such a rebellious girl as her. sejanus has been nice to her, but coryo guesses he lacks the courage to talk to her. coryo makes a grin and takes a step closer to her. her genuine eyes find his again and she searches them for some bit of truth. it’s hard for most people to guess what he’s thinking, but not for her. “i like you for that,” coryolanus tells her, and she furrows her eyebrows because by looking into is eyes she knows it’s the truth that he’s telling.

“hmm,” she just hums in surprise, “i know it upsets you, too. and that you worry about me, and that’s why you get me out of trouble, even if you don’t have to. you and your perfect attendance and grades, perfect attitude.” she counts off, and it almost sounds like she despises him for all these things. coryo shakes his head, eyelids fluttering while looking at her still.

“you of all people know how imperfect i am,” he says, “look where i have to live,” he gestures around the kitchen. but her smile drops, “it’s almost nothing compared to your place.” 

“where we live doesn’t say much about us,” she responds, “so many people at school think i’m this spoiled princess of the capitol living in my great mansion with mother and father.” she rolls her eyes. “only thing perfect about me are my grades, and even they are being pulled down because of my attitude.” she sighs. coryo nods, understanding, and stays close to her. “i’m really a rebellious child whose parents hardly have patience for. it’s not like i try to get into trouble, it just so happens that my opinions don’t go well with everyone else’s. i know i’m not the only one, but i might be the only one with guts to say those opinions.” she shrugs. “you know that associating with me can get you into trouble, too.”

coryo nods. “but it hasn’t this far,” he responds with a kind smile as the two of them look at each other. she wishes she could respond with a smile half as true as his current one, but her character has been beaten down. her eyelids flutter and she looks down at her hands. 

“why do you get me out of trouble, then? why do you worry about me?” she asks quietly. “we both know you shouldn’t.” 

“you don’t believe me when i say it,” coryo says, reminding her of the beginning of their conversation. she looks up at him again, chin raised. he’s wounded by her disbelief. 

“what?” she asks in half a whisper. coryo tilts his head, his facial expression saying that his answer should be obvious. his hand hesitantly reaches out to hers in her lap, gently coating her intertwined palms. she’s almost forgot how to breathe. he’s never touched her hands before. it’s always a hand at the small of her back, on her shoulder, arms around her. never the hands. it almost seems like he was saving them for... something.

“i like you,” coryo says just as quietly, hand over hers and eyes looking at her, this intense emotion suddenly between them in the air, “not just for the free stuff. it’s the depth of your heart and kindness,” one i know i’ll never have, “and your courageous nature.”

she smiles. “you have courage, too, coryo,” she tells him quietly, and finds herself lost in him now that he’s so close to her. his ice-cold heart warms at her using the nickname for him. she intertwines their fingers now, raising the formed knot higher between them, so that it would enter their line of vision. coryo looks at it, and his heart lurches in his chest, making him feel nearly on the point of fainting, “you do,” she says again, “you just need to... channel it in the right direction.” she utters in a the quietest of whispers. 

coryolanus doesn’t dare a make a noise even though his throat is dry and he needs to clear it, but he fears anything louder than a whisper might ruin everything, even his heart feels like it’s hammering too loud in his chest, “like this?” he asks in a faint voice, and she furrows her eyebrows at the weird question, but doesn’t get to doubt it because coryo is pressing his lips to hers, adding even more value to their moment together. 

for a person who is always able to calculate things to come, she is surprised because this she didn’t calculate at any point. but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t waited for him to do this, to take a next step, for at least a few weeks now. her courage faded away any chance she had to do the same, to be the one who takes the first step. 

she grips his hand between them even harder, and her other hand goes to cradle the side of his face, but after the first few kisses their hands untie and she uses both of hers to hold his face, while coryo is too shy to touch her. she pulls away, both of them out of breath, and they look at each other. stunned. thrilled. without words to say about what they just did. 

“yeah, like that,” she finally breathes in response, always having something cheeky up her sleeve, “only...” she takes both of his hands in hers and places them on her waist, where they fit nearly like a magnet. coryo breathes a quiet sigh of relief, it was where he thought of embracing her, but somehow lacked the guts to do so. looking at each other, she nods at him and coryo makes a small smile. “i know you like me now,” she says quietly, and coryo even chuckles, “you wouldn’t be so nervous about me otherwise.” 

he nods, succumbing to the defeat of her cracking him, and stands between her legs that dangle off the side of the table. his hands on her fit right in place, both of them feeling that they’re always meant to be there. “sometimes, uh...” coryo shakes his head, a little nervous to say what he wants to, but she urges him on with her hand on his cheek serving a comforting touch, and he blushes when he looks at her, “sometimes i don’t know if i like you or i’m scared of you.” he admits.

it makes her laugh out loud, as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard someone say. her head hangs low, and then rests against his chest once her laughter has started to subside. coryo feels embarrassed that he admitted that now, but he wraps his arms around her nonetheless. he knows she means no harm. 

she looks up at him, hands on his chest, and gets real close to his face again, “you better figure it out real soon, coryo,” she tells him, “i don’t want to be with someone who’s scared of me. i want them to be with me because they like me.” she says truthfully and coryo nods. he’s never really been around a girl or woman who’s made him feel like she has. it’s hard to explain, but her rebellious nature, her unpredictability are what scare him, but also what endear her to him. make him like her so much. makes his heart jump out of his chest when she speaks against a professor or simply flees a classroom. 

“i like you,” coryo assures her, “and i’m glad you want to be with me, too.” he says and they smile at each other. she nods at him and leans into his chest into a long embrace neither of them really want to get out of. 

coryolanus is scared of the consequences of her actions, scared for where it will make him end up. but life with her has colour. he doesn’t exactly want to give that up because he might get in trouble. he finds a way out of it with his wit and charm, anyhow. whatever problems she could get him into by being herself he can easily get out of, so maybe taking risks isn’t that deadly of a thing. not for her.

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part 2

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴘɪᴘᴇᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ (J.M)

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

Pairing: football-player!Joel Miller x golden-girl!Fem!Reader

POV: This story is told through the POV of high school senior Joel Miller

Summary: Joel's girl lives in his dreams and in the house next door. He's always known her, and he's always wanted her, but in ApplePine, whose dream does she not haunt? Now He has a chance that He's been looking forward to all his life. This can't fail. He won't let someone like her slip away.

Warnings/tags: Kind of toxic undertones, mentions of a bad home life (reader), church, idolization, nerves, kissing and making out, small Texas town with very traditional values, climbing and watching people through windows, Joel is a Lil bit of a stalker, BAD American football talk. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 4.5k

On most Saturdays and after church on Sundays, she could be found working at the local ice cream shop. Occasionally, if there wasn't a football game, she would also work on Fridays. She was a well-known figure in our small town - being the girl next door, head cheerleader, and leading member of the student council. Her many accomplishments included winning the title of Little Miss Apple Pine, which only added to her popularity. Many of us admired her from afar, watching her ride her bike with friends, interact with the little kids in the neighborhood, or simply be in her element with a book in hand and a Walkman playing some music.

It was difficult to tell what music she listened to, but I'd like to think it was hard rock, maybe Guns N' Roses. However, her sweet nature suggested it was more likely to be Bon Jovi or AC/DC. Despite her bright persona, we all knew that she had a tough time at home, our houses were right next to each other too It was sad but there's only so much a loud TV can cover.

We attend the same school and ride the same bus together. We have chemistry class as well as lunch B together. Additionally, we share gym and math classes. I have noticed that she is quieter in math class and doesn't answer questions as quickly. In math class, she sits three seats ahead of me, and during lunch, she sits six seats away from me. Her round lunch table is located ten tables away from mine, and it's always occupied by a few cheerleaders and jocks who are considered acceptable, unlike me who often gets thrown off the field for hitting refs because of not knowing if  I'm coming or going. Compared to them, she seems to be in another world, like a cool autumn day in the middle of a hot Texas summer.

As the chemistry class began, Mr. McMory walked into the classroom with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. He had only undone the top button of his shirt, showing some long curly grey chest hairs — utterly gross if you ask me. We all watched as he walked to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands together behind his back and stopped before turning to face the class.

"Now, as most of you probably know, we will need to form a new set of lab partners for this semester. However, to keep things fair so everyone gets a chance of getting matched with whom You would prefer, I've decided to have you all write your names on a small piece of paper and put them in this box. Once I've finished passing them out, I will draw two student names from the box at random, and those two will be your partners for this semester."

Without having to pause, Mr. McMory spoke clearly. This routine was something he did every marking period, four times a year, for 30 years. The memories of the previous marking period memories flooded my mind, where Jason Duly and Billy Holiday tried to bribe Gaby Michelle to give up her seat so that they could sit next to our classmate, the charming "I trust that you all understand the process now?" Mr. McMory continued. Once no one raised their hands to question what he said, he walked back to the front and handed out the small pieces of paper to everyone. "Now you have two minutes to write your names on the paper, then place it into the box. Once you are all finished, I will begin the randomized selection."

Chaos began to take place across the room with various bets being placed and trades being arranged like a market in the middle of a jungle, I wrote my name on the slip of paper without a thought. It was a meaningless task to me, as I would have been fine with getting anyone as my lab partner. In the middle sat our Pipe Dream, seemingly clueless to it all, while these students scrambled like mad to gain the favor of their desired partners, and the professor seemed unaware of all the action taking place in the classroom.

The chaos of the class was suddenly drowned out by Mr. McMory yelling out to have students start putting their slips into the box. As the box was quickly getting more and more full, the class started to become more and more silent and calm as no one wanted to be one of the ones not getting the partner they wanted even if they all wanted the same one our darling Miss pipedream isn't only perfect in every way but she's also incredibly smart.

Mr. McMory walked to the front of the classroom and stood in front of the whiteboard. He held the box and a red whiteboard marker. "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement," he said as he paused and placed the box on a stool in front of him. He then pulled out the first two names. "Gaby and Hannah," he announced, causing a small gasp from some students. Mr. McMory placed the paper down and wrote the names on the board. There was a moment of silence before a low murmur began to spread throughout the classroom Mr. McMory then pulled out another two slips from the box and announced the next pairs of names: "Billy and Jillian, Jason and Cory." As each pair was announced, the two people were immediately surrounded by cheers of excitement or groans of disappointment. Some students could be overheard saying things like "no way!" and "I can't believe this!" and "Are we sure it's fair?" There were a few complaints here and there that their partner was not who they wanted, but Mr. McMory quickly cut them off, saying, "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement, understood?"

As I stood watching the chaos break loose behind me, I couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly everything was unfolding. However, my laughter came to a sudden halt when Mr. McMory announced me and a stranger as partners.No, not a stranger, It was the girl who seemed to have it all, the girl who had effortlessly made her way through every aspect of the school and had become something of a legend. She was the girl next door, the one every boy wanted, and the only one I was enamored with at the slightest glance in her direction. My heart skipped a beat as I looked over the crowd and saw her smiling brightly at me. Time seemed to slow down as the rest of the world faded away. It was as if the universe was just waiting for us to get to know each other. My nervousness quickly turned into an adrenaline rush as I became more and more excited. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, a chance to turn my dreams into reality and finally figure her out.

On the bus, I noticed her again. We made eye contact but didn't speak. She sat with her friend Sally Handson until she got off at her stop. However, I didn't expect her to move over and sit in the same seat as me.

"You're Joel, right?" she asked me before kindly offering her hand to shake.

"That's me," I smiled as I gently took her hand in mine and shook it. Our skin connected, and I felt a slight tremor in my hand before letting go, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward. I looked back up to see her, and she seemed to be just as nervous as I felt. The silence seemed to linger on for a moment before she spoke again.

"I just wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look at the assignment yet?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking. "No, actually, I'm not very good at chemistry. I was probably going to copy off of you, to tell you the truth," I said, trying to make a joke, but struggling to hide the fact that it was true.

She smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Like all football players. It's okay though, I can help you study sometime if you'd like?"

As she spoke, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. The offer of her help flooded my mind with different scenarios, from spending time with her after school to studying together at the library or even hosting study groups at our houses. I chuckled nervously and nodded my head.

The sudden stop of the bus snapped me back to reality, and a thought raced through my mind. Should I ask to walk her home? The offer seemed so appealing, and I was filled with possibilities of getting to know her even better. It was time to take the chance, but I had to fight the nervousness building inside me.

"Hey, are you walking to your house? Because I was just going to ask if...if I could walk you home?" I spoke the words carefully, fearing that I might mess up and ruin the moment. I fiddled with the straps of my backpack, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I waited for her response.

She smiled kindly at me. "Yes, and I would love that. Do you know which house?"

"I do," I said with a slightly more confident tone than before. I felt myself calming down as the idea of walking home together became more real. She began to take in the neighborhood around us, and I thought it was a perfect time to start a conversation.

"So, this is where you live?"

She giggled, and her laughter was infectious. I couldn't help but smile. "Joel, you and I have lived in the same neighborhood since we were newborns. We're neighbors for goodness sake, no need to be so formal with me."

She was right; I was overthinking our interactions. We had been neighbors for as long as I could remember. "Oh yeah...I suppose you have a point. I guess my nervousness made me go blank like that. I'm just not used to seeing you when you're not out on the field with your cheer squad." I chuckled, feeling my nerves die down even more as I looked over at her and relaxed a bit more.

"I understand it's hard not to picture me like that, and you as well, Joel. You're violent on the field. I'm pretty sure that referee from Tentown had a broken nose," she tries to make conversation. 

The mention of the game in Tentown makes me chuckle a bit. That was the first game in the league where I was allowed to play, and I suppose my desire to prove myself ended with me getting a bit carried away. The thought of the ref's nose makes me chuckle a bit more as I couldn't help but feel bad for the ref. 

"Yeah, I think you're right about that. But that's just how it is, right? The game is pretty brutal. I can't play without getting a little carried away." 

She thinks for a second and then says, "Maybe that's why you're always benched, along with Tommy? Speaking of your brother, where is he? Oh, and how are poor freshmen? I heard the older football players are being a little mean."

The question about my benching for games suddenly brings back my nervous energy, and I immediately feel uncomfortable talking about it. "That's probably one of the reasons for it, yeah..." I sigh as the mention of my brother and some of the team's hazing of the freshman brings a frown to my face.

"It pisses me off how they treat some of the freshmen like that. I don't see why they can't just treat them like the rest of the team..." I pause mid-sentence as the thought comes to my mind.

"I feel so bad for the poor freshman. They do the same thing on the cheer team," she said. We stopped at the crossing signal, and I was surprised by how well she could relate to what I was describing. It dawned on me that she may have experienced it more than I had considering how involved she is in cheer. We waited for the light to turn green, and I smiled at her.

"We should set up a study date sometime soon. After all, you said you're not that good at chemistry?" she said as we got closer to her house. I was thrilled at the possibility of spending more time with her.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I'll certainly need the help," I chuckled. She walked ahead of me with a sweet little glide in her step, making me have to catch up to her as we continued walking.

"Which days work for you?" she asked, opening her backpack and taking out a pen and paper. "Oh, and write down your landline number." I replied, "I'm pretty much free all week, so just let me know what works for you." Her request for my landline number made my heart skip a beat as it reminded me of when she offered to help me at her place.

"How about Friday after school since there's no game? We can meet at my place," she suggested as we stood outside her front gate. "That works great for me! We can discuss our study plans and maybe even study together if you're up for it," I replied excitedly. "Your place sounds perfect, and I just want to say thank you," I added, feeling grateful for her help. She smiled and said, "Of course, Joel." Then she walked into her yard and house, waving goodbye.

Friday couldn't come any quicker in my mind. I couldn't get Miss Applepine, Cheery Pie, Pipe Dream out of my head at all. The more we talked in class, the more I fell under her spell and the more I wanted to know... She was a mystery, and I wanted to be the first to hear everything she was willing to tell.

now stand at her front door. I rang the doorbell eagerly waiting for her to answer. She opened the door; she looked so pretty. "Come on in, Joel," she opened the door to let me in. In all my years of being neighbors, I always wondered what her house looked like, and to be honest, her house is less organized than I thought.

"Sorry about the mess. You know, it's just me and my dad, and I'm a little behind on chores... um... studying," she began to ramble but stopped herself. It was rather cute; it made me smile even more.

"Come on upstairs to my room. I have all my books and everything up there," she led me up to her bedroom. It was so normal - band posters, photos of her family, school items, her numerous awards, and her window looked directly into my room.

As we entered her room, I couldn't resist glancing over to her window again. It felt like this was the closest I could get to seeing inside her home for A Long time and now I'm inside the looking glass. I took a seat right next to her bed as she went to her bookshelf to collect her textbooks. As we started reviewing the material, a wave of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I occasionally stole a glance at her while she flipped through different articles, but I couldn't hold my stare for long.

"Are these all the books we're going to be using?" I asked as she placed her biology and chemistry books on her desk. I watched her lean over, her eyes almost glued to the books as she read through them. "Yeah, these are the ones. I just want to make sure that we're both prepared for this project. It's about how we think the universe began, so lots to cover" she replied with a soft smile that brought me back to reality for a moment as I gazed into her eyes.

"I'm ready to start studying. So, what do you want to start with?" she asked as I sat down. She looked at me with a sweet smile and thought for a moment before responding, "Do you think we should start with chemistry? I know it's the one you struggle with the most."

"Sure, that works," I replied excitedly she remembered that from the walk my cheeks got a little pink as I opened the book and looked over her shoulder to find the section she had mentioned. I was determined to pay close attention this time, feeling more relaxed thanks to her calm and collected presence.

Every little gesture or movement she made caught my full attention like a spark in my head. Her adorable smile and the way she played with her hair made it difficult to resist complimenting her. When she asked if she could ask me something, it snapped me out of my trance for a moment. I replied with a simple "Yeah, sure."

As she playfully hit my shoulder, her touch felt light as a feather. I couldn't help but smile, sitting up and crossing my legs like she was doing. Moving my book from my lap, I placed it on the end of her bed. "Why can't you focus?" she asked, and my heart started racing. I didn't want to tell her the truth, so I lied, "No reason..." Trying to act casual, I could feel myself blushing as she hit my shoulder and called me out. It was because of her - her sweet smile, small gestures, and the way she sat cross-legged on her bed - that I couldn't focus. But I couldn't just outright admit that I had a massive crush on her.

"We can take a break?" she offered, and I felt even more nervous. The idea of taking a break meant a chance to talk about things other than studying and a chance to just hang out with her. I was hoping that she felt the same way and that she also couldn't help but notice the tension that was building between us. I sat back up and joked, "You're saying that as if I would deny the offer." My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel the same tension I did.

As we continued to talk, I made sure to continue moving closer to her every chance that I could get. The heat coming from her body filled me with a new sense of boldness as I tried to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean who can blame me, when I'm sitting across from someone so charming..." I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"Have you been studying for long?" she asked me as she laid back on her bed, making it clear that she had no plans to get up anytime soon. As the conversation shifted towards more flirtatious topics, I started to blush slightly. "Do you mean studying?..." I replied to her, but even I could hear that my voice had taken on a flirty tone.

"Yes, studying, or are you just as brain-dead as the other football players?" she joked. "Hey now, what are you implying?" I responded teasingly as I moved closer to her. As we talked more, the tone of the conversation became increasingly flirtatious, and I struggled to hold back my blush. "You're the one who keeps saying we should take a break. Sounds like you don't want to study..." I said, trying to pretend to focus on a book.

But even as we continued discussing the material or pretending to, I noticed her eyes drifting toward me as she glanced up and down my body. It made me feel a little uneasy, but also excited as I wondered what she was thinking. Could she feel the same tension between us that I felt?

"Hmmm, maybe I don't. But you're the one who said yes to the break." she grinned mischievously as I scooted slightly closer to her, looking up and staring into her eyes. "You make it kind of hard to pay attention..."

As we continued to talk The heat coming from her body filled me with a sense of boldness as I attempted to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean, who can blame me when I'm sitting across from someone so charming?" I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"I'm flattered. I'll take that as a compliment since you're also very kind with your words," she said as I moved even closer to her. We were almost too close for comfort, but I couldn't resist getting even closer. "I thought I was charming, but you are even more charming than I imagined," I told her, leaning in even closer until I was practically touching her. I felt like I was crossing a line, but I couldn't help myself. Her eyes seemed to be blushing, and I felt a sudden burst of confidence. I brought my hand up to her side, almost touching her waist. "You are an interesting girl," I whispered.

"You find me interesting?" she asked, smiling shyly and looking down. I could tell she was blushing and feeling a little embarrassed, but I decided to take a risk and leaned in even closer. Our faces were almost touching, and I could feel her breath on my face. I looked up at her and felt a rush of emotions.

"I didn't know you were so easy to read," I said as I leaned even closer to her, this time the tiny distance between us was nothing but air. I couldn't help but feel that feeling building inside me again as I watched her face grow redder and redder as it appeared to be a little closer every time. "I'm sure most guys would be more than happy to take advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”

“Are you most guys? Should I be worried? I'm not a one-and-done girl, Joel…” she said, showing insecurity for what seems to be the first time. As she asked me if I was 'most guys', I couldn't help but feel my heart sink for a brief second as I heard her insecurity, but I quickly recovered and smiled as I looked down at her. My hands slowly wrapped around her waist as I leaned even closer. "Oh please, you think I'm going to leave someone as beautiful and kind as you just like that. You aren't a one-and-done girl, you're... you're an angel." I slowly leaned forward so our faces were just a hair's width apart. I gazed into her eyes, lost in the moment, when she suddenly exclaimed, "An Angel?" Her voice was soft, yet full of wonder, as if she had just seen something magical. She was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face, and I couldn't help but notice the way her face immediately flushed up with red. Her eyes quickly looked down, as if to distract herself from her sudden burst of emotion.

I kept looking at her, waiting for her to look back up at me. I leaned down just a bit more, my heart racing with anticipation, as my lips were barely an inch from hers when she finally decided to look back up. I couldn't help but feel the surge of joy rushing through my body as I saw the way her eyes slowly opened and she looked back up to face me.

The way her cheeks were still flushed and the shy, but happy look on her face was exactly what I needed. It was the perfect moment as I leaned in for the kiss. Our lips met in a sweet and simple embrace, and I felt a warmth spread through my body. It was like time had stopped, and nothing else mattered in the world except for that moment. I held her close as we kissed, and I knew deep down inside that this was the start of something special.

The kiss started gentle but with each second that passed it started to become more intense. The heat of her body and the way her hands ran through my hair was making my heart skip a few beats as I started to wish I could pull her into an even deeper kiss. I didn't want to overwhelm her though so I tried to keep it simple, although it was hard to keep my hands from finding every part of her body that I could. She's not someone who wants a one-time thing and I'll do everything I can to make sure she doesn't think all I want is sex.

We disengaged when we heard her front door slam shut. "That's my dad!" she exclaimed, her urgency evident. "He can't know you're here." She swiftly rose, pulling me up with her, both of us breaking away from the kiss as she hurried us along. Her pace was so brisk that it took a moment for me to catch on before I scrambled up. "Why can't he know I'm here?" I whispered, trying to avoid any noise as her dad ascended the stairs.

"Because he'll flip if he finds a guy in my room. Though, it's not like it's the first time I've had a guy over," she rushed, steering us towards her bedroom window. "Seriously? You've done this before?" I questioned? but that conversation could wait as we reached her bedroom window, which she promptly opened, urging me outside.

"Well, there was this one time Dad caught me, and he nearly lost it. I promised I wouldn't do it again, and he dropped it," she explained hurriedly, her insistence on getting me out the window starting to concern me. I trusted she knew what she was doing, but I wasn't quite prepared for what came next.

"Are you seriously making me climb out your window?" I protested.

"Don't be a wimp. You'll be fine. You're not the first guy I've had over," she reassured, though her words didn't ease my nerves. The distance from her window to the ground seemed to grow as she tugged me closer to the edge.

As I began to climb out, my foot slipped, and I fell with a hard thud and a loud squeak.

Despite the throbbing pain in my ankle, the walk home afforded me ample time to ponder, and my thoughts continuously circled back to her. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, as if she was keeping something from me. If she's had numerous guys over before, why the sudden worry about her dad catching her? Was I just another casual fling to her? My mind brimmed with inquiries for my elusive "little miss pipedream."

[azureforreal]

Can you give us some facts about Splendid and Splendon't?

Didn't expect someone to be interested on them, all right

Do you enjoy reading? Cuz there will be a lot of that, had to draw some things tho QHAUAHUAHUAHAU

Get ready cuz this is a rideeeeeee

First I need to explain their relationship from the very beginning

Its a big

"I did what I thought was the best for you"

(AND ITS BOTH SIDES)

Growing up Splendid ended being that child who does everything, "the jack of all trades" kid, or being called "the gifted kid". He basically did things using recognition and praise as fuel until hie ended up crashing with a big burnout and a lot of high expectations on his back. Its to a point were he was being taken for granted, "Of course he would do that, he's Splendid after all"

In the end he noticed he had never lived for himself, it was always for the wishes of others.

And he wanted to protect his brother from that. He wanted him to have his own life, free from the gaze of others.

So he decided to take everything to himself so his brother wouldn't face the pressure or constant glares, of course, it came with the price of him growing distant from his brother for being way too busy.

But for Splendont, it ended with him becoming the child who was aways being compared, the "not good enough" one. So he just accepted that becoming his bitter self, becoming the opposite of his brother and not giving a fuck about what others think.

Then the war came and Splendid wanted to enlist with the intention of freeing himself from the weight of expectations for a while and trying to have some time to himself, perhaps follow his dreams of escapism that he had while reading comics.

And to his surprise, his brother wanted to enlist too. Splendid was against it but when Splendont set his mind or something, its too late.

Fast forward to after the war, it still a difficult relationship for both of them

Its not something they can just shake hands and be happy go lucky best brothers, there was a lot of negligence and postponing things for later until it was too late.

And they are too prideful to settle things down first or ask for help, in that aspect, you can see how much they are alike

NOW LETS GO BACK TO SILLY STUFF

Splendid is the oldest twin just by a few minutes

They live in the same house and this makes a scene in chapter 3 hilarious, Splendid knew exactly were his brother went after leaving him alone in the street "Bro, I literally live with you"

They have nicknames, Splendid can be called as Did and Splendont can be called as Don (yeah, without the "t" because the amount of puns it was possible doing with it made him soooooo mad XD)

Splendid had a wish of becoming a photographer, the idea of freezing memories eternally console him from his reality, but OH BOI, do we have some news for him

Splendont doesn't like wearing the hat from his uniform, the first chance he gets, he's taking it off, Splendid its not a fan of it too, but he tries to hide it and show he follows the rules.

They do dumb competitions against each other (Splendid wont admit it out loud but he's extremely competitive), like getting to the end of a corridor first, getting in the line first etc

Sometimes they will team up to piss off Flippy, they have many inside jokes about acting like is the end of the world every time Flippy shows any respect

They would look like this in human form. As they are twins, Splendont is basically a red Splendid if he didn't tie his hair, and yes, they have an ahoge, NOBODY IS STOPPING MEEEEEEEEEEEE

They are conventionally handsome while Flippy is that one analogue horror looking friend, so you can imagine what the three look like together (Flaky has shoujo filters in her eyes, she grew up with him)

Splendid has a bad vision when it comes to reading things up close. He sees it as a weakness someone could use against him, so he tries to hide it, sometimes he forgets his glasses at home

but somebody dont.

Then he proceeds to throw a chair at him

"NOW you can see it coming" XDDDDDDD

As much as Did tries his best to keeps things civilized, sometimes he has a huge family drama fight at work with his brother while Flippy is in the background asking himself "Could I use this as blackmail?" QHAUHUHAUAHUAHUAHUAHAHA

But why Splendont decided to join the army in the first place? I leave that interpretation to you, what do you think it was? kekekekeke

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part II, Chapters 7-8:

35 Portland Row is such a perfect home base. An urban Hobbit Hole. Magician’s nephew townhouse. Familiar and homey, yet exiting and unusual. Just the right amount of familiar and unfamiliar things that would appeal to a kid. The tantalizing fantasy of independence mixed with the fear of the outside world that the young target audience first starts to comprehend at that age. The dream of living with your crush and all your friends, eating donuts for breakfast, staying up to all hours of the night, being dashing, running things, having swords, being better at something than the adults who are an arbitrary force you put on a façade and appease and try to get rid of as soon as possible. Your challenge being comprehending mortality, coming to terms that death is a part of life and can happen to anyone around you, even your most loved ones. And your enemy being corrupt adults who run corporations that already traded your future, all your hopes and dreams, all your potential for just a bit more money, prestige, life they desire. It says something that a book for a modern teenager is one about kids just trying to survive in a world adults ruined and how difficult it is to keep a place of your own and your integrity safe and in one piece.

Miscellaneous:

It's sweet that Lockwood sees Portland Row as being not just "his" but belonging to anyone who is part of the agency. This is his home, legally he is the sole owner of it, but he views the house as Lucy's and George's in equal measure because they are part of Lockwood and Co. He opens his home to people not in the manner of a landlord (we don't really ever find out if he charges Geroge or Lucy any rent, I suspect he doesn't although informally they all probably pitch in on maintenance). What I love about Lockwood is he's such a paradox, he's extremely inviting and yet intensely closed off. He both opens his home to friends and craves a family and is also deeply emotionally stunted and detached.

George has lived with Lockwood for only maybe a year or so and the agency has only been registered three months and yet he gives off such intense "Elizabeth from Accounts Payable whose been with the company for twenty years and has weathered every kind of bullshit and is counting down to retirement" vibes like, Sir, how do you sound so 50 at 15?

Lockwood is so funny because one moment he's actually being a good boss and agency head – conducting good interviews, watching for emotional responses, making background checks on potential hires, giving a tour to new employee where he firmly but politely draws boundaries - and then the next moment he's absolutely peacocking to a cute girl like "look, look, I'm also powerful and a big deal!"

I also think it's funny that Lockwood strikes out with Lucy a lot more from the beginning then we realize. Lucy is traumatized, emotionally immature and has not been socialized properly. Her self-confidence has been worn away by her "prettiness is not your job" mother and having to be the breadwinner for her family so early in life. There are these moments early on where someone more adept at flirting would have picked up on Lockwood being a showoff and maybe played with it, but bless her she's 13 going on 14 here, literally no one can flirt at that age so she's just incapable of seeing what is going on or give it any time of day. It's no wonder that it takes them literal years to get anywhere.

Also, who let Lockwood keep that watch? no one right? He stole it. He told the cops there's a shitload of death glows in a garden and they probably brought him along to raid the home of a serial killer to help look evidence or whatever and there was a watch lying around and Lockwood was like “ooooooh for my murder scrapbook!” and swiped it.

The mention of an uncle early on is such a clever thing because it’s relevant to the plot during the interview to show how sensitive Lucy really is, but it’s also a red herring. When George mentions Lockwood losing his parents young and him being “in care” of some relative, the reader immediately thinks "ah yes, that must have been that nice uncle!" It lets us assume that whatever mystery there is about the room it must be about his parents. It's why the reveal at the end of Whispering Skull is such a surprise and shows just how little we know about him.

Yea she's gone.

It took less than a week for her to go from describing Lockwood as looking like "a priest on a toilet" to this teenage horniness. My disaster crush in Gr.7 had about the same trajectory. Also reminds me of Mei's completely realistically portrayed crush on Some Convenience Store Guy in "Turning Red". Flips on like a switch and before you know it, you're doodling the most mortifying thing ever conceived my man. 13 is such a cursed age, my god.

I’ve mentioned this before in a post, but Lucy lashes out at people for things she hates about herself. Her internal gripes about Geroge are not that he’s rude (even though he definitely is to her) she’s not mean about him being objectively less Talented then her, she’s never makes fun of him for being smarter or better educated than she is. Lucy can handle outright hostility pretty well and she’s not self-conscious about her talent or lack of education. But she is, I think, deeply insecure about her appearance. And like so many girls her age it’s the chink in her armor she knows to hide and wallpaper over with dismissal and disdain. She pretends she doesn’t care but she does, and the more her feelings for Lockwood grow the more it shows in how she talks about herself and how she talks about others.

Sometimes you’re reading a book and oooh there’s a romance subplot and A falls for B (often instead of C or D) and you think … but why? why is A in love with B actually? What is it about them that makes the attraction click? But with Lucy it’s so obvious why she is almost immediately taken with Lockwood, but also why she doesn’t realize it. From Lucy’s POV, for all his flaws Lockwood is the opposite of what Jacobs was. He enters with the teams and he’s the last to leave (he even jumps out the burning building last). She doesn’t feel alone and unsupported. He takes accountability for any error on the case, easily and without any shifting of blame. Sure he’s vainglorious and a bit irresponsible and impulsive and all that. He’s 14-15 at most - that’s normal enough and she’s a kid like him, she gets it. But Lockwood is also a kid burdened with a lot of responsibly and I think Lucy is in a unique position to appreciate this and admire him for taking it on as he does. And that admiration neatly tricks her into thinking that’s all there is to her feelings for a long, long time because she can’t tell her feels apart worth a damn.

I’m going to start a Lucy describes Lockwood’s smile count: 6

[faustinio27]

OC Questionnaire! ft. Faustine Daemon

Thank you for the tag @boxdstars!! It's always a good time to ramble about my ocs 😙✨

1. How has your OC changed over time? Are there any major differences that have happened since their inception?

Honestly? Even after creating her over a year ago, she didn't really changed :'D I think it's mostly due to her personality being tied to my HL gameplay. If things have changed, it's because my memory is failing me and I'm forgetting elements of the game, and she's reacting in ways that don't match my choices x) I'm sometimes tempted to take her in a different direction from what I've established (make her more like a cold-blooded, for example), but I want to keep her as she is, aka a heroine with good intentions but questionable actions. I love villains and anti-hero, so it's hard for me to keep a character being "good" (with still flaws).

2. Where does your OC see themself in ten years. Now, what actually happens to your oc in ten years time?

At 15yo, a few months earlier before having magic, she had seen herself as having no future, but suddenly during her 5th at Hogwarts, she was learning all sorts of different jobs in the magical world. Although she's curious about many things (working with beasts, with books, helping people, discovering the world, etc), she thinks she has a duty to protect the weak with her ability to wield ancient magic, and thinks becoming Auror. Especially after losing Professor Fig, Logdock, and so many people who relied on her during her 5th and she failed to save. At 25yo, she's indeed an Auror and is renowned for her efficiency and ruthlessness, especially for her age, and earning her the nickname Blue-Eyed Demon. She has a house in London but hardly ever lives there, as she's always on mission in England or on the other side of the world. But at this time, she's close to burnout and is in a transition period where she's thinking of quitting, or at least taking on fewer missions, to do her dream job: becoming a librarian. She has always wanted to work surrounded by books, but has stopped herself from seeing this as a possibility with her responsabilities. Her friends, and especially Natsai for being an Auror like her, encourage her to change her path and do what she really wanted.

3. What‘s something unexpected about your OC that most people wouldn’t assume just from looking at them!

Something I've noticed when people talk to me or draw me Faustine is that they often see her as cold and inexpressive (also my fault because I love drawing her badass and cold hearted, but she's just an introvert lol). But even if she's calm and serious in her every day life, she's so much expressive when surrounded by friends, or when she feels comfortable! She can laugh at open heart to a joke, grumble and complain loudly when she's hungry, hopping around when excited, etc.

My questions!

1- If there was any advice your OC could give to their younger self, what would it be?

2- What's the thing they love about themselves? Hate about themselves?

3- What’s something your OC is often conflicted about? A choice they made, their place or purpose in the world, a relationship they have with someone, etc? How does this conflict manifest, and how do they deal with it, if at all?

Tagging: @limonnitsa @lamieboo @dwightschrute11 @siboom777 @syaolaurant @traceyc-uk @the-ozzie @boxdstars (for Amara)

[pinkpastels113]

Bechloe accidental first kiss

Beca, of course, had always thought about kissing Chloe. She’s beautiful, warm, and quite frankly the whole reason Beca is having such a great time at Barden. Beca’d come to the realization that she had a crush on her best friend ages ago, and every day that came after that was just another day that Beca had to stifle the urge to do just that.

She thought about how soft Chloe’s lips would be- she always saw her reapply her chapstick religiously- and dreamed about how cute it would feel like to stand up on her tip toes and wrap her arms around Chloe’s shoulders. She wanted to have Chloe hold her as more than a friend, in places more than just the couch in the Bella House.

Beca is not completely sure that Chloe likes her back- no matter what Stacie or Emily or anybody else says- so that’s why she hasn’t yet made her move. She’s not a complete wimp- she’d made out with Jesse in front of all those people in Lincoln Center after all- but she is not going to be rejected by her best friend, damn it. Beca doesn’t think that she can’t take it, the awkwardness nor the loss of friendship. Chloe is her favorite person, ever, in the world, and Beca doesn’t know what she would do with herself if she ruined that.

The only problem was, Chloe is touchy. She touched Beca everywhere, on the arm whenever she laughs, the hand whenever she wants to listen to some music that Beca had mixed, the waist whenever she wishes to get by. Normally Beca is used to it, but sometimes she still gets caught off guard and jumps whenever she is not paying attention.

Such as today.

"Okay, okay," Chloe says, trying to catch everybody's attention. "We have the decorations here, Jessica and Ashley are going to put on the music, and Beca is laying out the cookies. The Trebles are going to be here in about an hour girls, let's move it."

Why Beca had agreed to take care of the baking, she does not know. Certainly not because Chloe had tried her mom's chocolate chip cookie recipe last week and begged Beca to recreate it, that's just too pathetic.

Beca sighs, folding in the chocolate chips. She has one more step to go, and then she can shove them in the oven and never think about it again. Chloe can take them out. It was her idea anyway.

Finished with gently laying in the chocolate with the dough, Beca goes to look for the scooper. She opens the drawer where they usually keep it, but it's not there.

"Hey, Chlo! Where's the scooper? I need it for the cookies."

"Hm?" Chloe glances back over her shoulder from the living room, where she is taping a string of Christmas lights from the ceiling. "Oh I think I have it in my room. I used it last night for some ice cream."

Beca raises her eyebrows. "For some ice cream? Really? That's like... a pretty big spoon, don't you think?"

Chloe huffs, rolling her eyes. There is a smile on her lips and Beca is proud that she placed it there. Teasing is too much fun. "Well I have a pretty big appetite, especially for sweet stuff like ice cream. You know that."

"Uh huh." Beca is already washing her hands and making her way into Chloe's bedroom. "I should have put salt in these cookies then, so you wouldn't eat them all."

Chloe's room is a mess. Books on her bed, clothes on the floor, bra hanging over a desk chair. Beca tries not to stare at it as she turns around in a circle to locate the ice cream/cookie scooper. Knowing Chloe, it could be under her bed for all Beca knew. She was just about to bend down and pull the comforter over when something catches her eye.

A journal. On Chloe's pillow.

It was open to two pages, left side scribbled on, right side with a drawing. Ethically, Beca knows that she shouldn't, but curiosity gets the better of her when she sees something written in Chloe's loopy lettering that might be her name. Stepping over a novel from some Russian author, Beca picks the journal up.

She barely had time to register that the drawing was of her bent over her laptop when Chloe pinches her waist. "Hey I found it-"

Beca practically jumps out of her skin at the sudden contact. "Jesus Chr-"

Chloe's mouth brushes the corner of Beca's. They both freeze. Beca's hands slip on the journal balancing in her palm and it tumbles down to her feet but neither seems to notice. They're too busy trying to understand what just happened. Beca's face is turned towards Chloe's and her heart is making itself known in her ribcage with the speed at which its beating. Her brain sizzled and sparked like a backup generator kicking into gear in a blackout.

They're still standing two inches apart. Beca's eyes look into Chloe's and Chloe's look back, both surprise and a little bit of fear reflected in those bright blues. Chloe seems to hesitate, before pulling her hand away from Beca's body. When Beca didn't make an effort to move, or push her away, Chloe swallows, and opens her mouth.

"Look, Beca, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Beca blinks. Dazedly. "What?" Holy crap, Chloe Beale just kissed her. "About what?"

Chloe gestures between them. "That." Her breath is warm and smells like candy, and god, her lips look so soft. "We shouldn't have kissed. I scared you, and you hadn't been paying attention, and I really do want to kiss you, like so so freaking bad, but like not like this, and I'm sorry that if this means that our friendshi-"

And this time, Beca kisses her. Because Chloe just confirmed that she likes Beca back, and Beca is not a wimp. She kisses her like she imagined she would, and her arms wrapped around Chloe's shoulders and her feet goes to stand on tip toes and Chloe's smile is indeed soft and sweet and tastes like candy and Beca is so glad that she agreed to bake her cookies tonight.

Chloe pushes Beca down onto her bed. Her teeth nips on Beca's bottom lip before trailing to her neck and Beca can feel herself shiver. "You really shouldn't have been going through my journal, either, y'know."

"Yeah well, I have a pretty big appetite, especially for mysterious stuff like journals. You know that."

Chloe laughs, right into Beca's skin. Her fingers brush on Beca's thighs and Beca starts, again, because she really doesn't think she can ever get over Chloe suddenly touching her in all the right places. "I do now."

[f1ora1f1owerswrites]

sad house

Summary: Bradley's world felt as broken as the house he grew up in—until you showed up with a half-broken bike and an open, determined heart. Years later, sitting together in the warmth of your new home, he reflects on how your love turned his sadness into something beautiful. (inspired by come over - noah kahan)

Warnings: angsty (kind of hehe). fluffy ending. she/her pronouns used. no mention of y/n. :)

Word count: 889.

The house always looked sad. Its sagging windows framed the dim glow of a television inside, the walls seemed to lean inward, almost like they couldn’t carry the weight of themselves, and the garnered out front had long been overtaken by weeds. 

Bradley hated it. He hated the way it felt like a living reminder of everything his family had lost. His father, their stability, his mom’s smile. But what he had hated the most was how he felt like the house had personified him.

He was 13 the first time he ever met you, sitting on the curb outside with his head bowed, staring at his scuffed sneakers. It was a hot summer afternoon, the kind of day that he should have been spending with friends. His mom was inside, the clatter of dishes echoing faintly through the open windows. He was out ther because he couldn’t stand the noise.

He didn’t notice you until your bike skidded to a halt directly in front of him. The rubber tires crunched against the graved, and a shadow fell over his hunched figure. “Hey,” you said, your tone light and curious, like this was just another normal interaction.  Bradley glanced up, startled to see someone his age standing there.

“Hey,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. 

You leaned your bike against the curb and plopped down beside him, close enough that he could feel your presence but not so close to where it felt intrusive. “What’s with the house?” you asked, pointing toward the sad little structure behind him.

Bradley automatically stiffened, so used to the usual teasing from kids at school. The whispered comments about the “sad kid with the sad house” that followed him everywhere, like a gloomy cloud. But your voice wasn’t mocking, it was genuinely curious.

“It’s just old,” he said shortly without making eye contact. Already trying to make the comment disappear.

“Old is cool,” you replied quickly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Bradley didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. One thing that was different about you was that you didn’t leave. Instead, you started talking about your bike that you got two years ago and how it always lost its chain, about the flowers growing along the ditch that you though were pretty, about how boring summer could be without friends to hang out with.

Bradley barely responded, but you didn’t seem to mind.

Bradley didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. But you didn’t leave. Instead, you started talking about your bike and how it always lost its chain, about the flowers growing along the ditch that you thought were pretty, about how boring summer could be without friends to hang out with.

Bradley barely responded, but you didn’t seem to mind.

Years later, Bradley would remember that day vividly. He’d think about how you’d shown up out of nowhere and sat beside him as if you’ve known him forever, refusing to let his silence push you away. You’d come back the very next day, and the next, until it became routine. You’d bring your chalk to draw on the driveway, or books to read under the shade of the big tree next to his house.

Slowly, cautiously, Bradley had let you in.

Sitting beside you now, on the porch of your dream home, he couldn’t help but marvel at how far you’d come. The house was nothing like the one on his old street that he hated so much. This one was warm, inviting, filled with years of light memories and laughter. You were curled up beside him, mug cradled in your hands as the evening San Diego breeze greeted the two of you.

Bradley glanced at you, the glow of the porch light catching the curve of your cheek as you looked out. His heart swelled with a quiet, enduring kind of love. “Do you ever think about how we met?” he asked softly, his voice breaking the comforting silence.

You smiled, turning to meet his gaze slightly. “All the time. You were so grumpy.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I was a mess,” he admitted. “I didn’t think anyone would bother with the ‘sad kid in the sad house.’ But then there you were. With that half broken bike of yours, just sitting there like you’d always belonged.

You reached for his hand, your fingers lacing through his as you gave it a gentle squeeze like you always did. “You weren’t just ‘the sad kid,’ Bradley. You were kind and thoughtful, and you made me laugh. Even when you didn’t know it, you were something special.”

His throat tightened unexpectedly as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You saved me back then, you know,” he murmured. “And now, looking at this life we’ve built, I can’t believe how lucky I got. My dad probably sent you.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the quiet hum of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves filling the space between you. For Bradley, this moment felt like everything he’d ever wanted: peace, love, and the warmth of the one person who had always seen him for more than his broken pieces.

a/n: I have had so much fun writing based on the songs i listen to, i think right now that's what is helping jog my brain for ideas. i hope you liked my first bradley fic, i want to just put him in my pocket!!

[sweetestpopcorn]

How do you feel about Snape from Harry Potter? Do you think that he is similar to Ser Criston Cole in some ways?

Hi there and sorry for this huge delay... I wish you a very I live in shame.

I am going to begin by making it clear this answer concerns ONLY the asoiaf canon (books), so any redacted fans kindly move along. Thank you.

So, I don't see how anyone would think that Snape is in any significant way similar to Criston Cole. Yes both are ambitious, cunning in a sense, and brave, but who they are at heart, their journey and their ending is world's apart.

The whole point of Severus Snape as a character is that he starts of being presented to us as a villain of sorts - from Harry's perspective - even looks wise, he is a typical villain. The way he dresses, the greasy hair, not very handsome (to be kind), his beak of a nose. His House, Slytherin, another token of his evil ways if you would. Another clue that he's bad. What we come to find along the way is that actually, it's not as easy as that.

Severus Snape is a grey character, perhaps as grey as it can get. He has done some very selfish and reprehensible things, and at the same time, there's a lot of good in him, bravery as well. The beauty of it is that it does not erase any of the bad that he has done, or it is if people can understand nuance it only adds to the complexity of his character, because you can do good things and have qualities and still choose wrong at times and be a less than good person. It's good. It's human. It's amazing writing and understanding of the human heart at conflict with itself.

That's not the case with Criston Cole. Unlike with Snape, there's no redemption for him, and besides his skill as a fighter and military commander, and his bravery since he never once backed down from a fight, there's really no redeeming qualities to him. He's not a character who changed but rather one who revealed himself and didn't reveal anything good. He's not grey, he's a villain. A good villain for sure, as his physical appearance - at least when he was young - does not let on about his rotten nature. Unlike the villains we are used to reading about, he's young at the start, charming, handsome. He has black hair and green eyes, very much a Baratheon look, and Robert too was once described as being a maiden's dream. Criston's occupation would also speak of honour and high character, he's a man of the Kingsguard. His death, however, and his decisions, speak for themselves and he's a very good example of a "show don't tell" sort of villain. Nothing bad about him is ever told, but everything is shown -> using a child to move up in the world, being a creep to said child, turning on a woman he was said to love when she does not live up to his twisted version of her, spending the rest of his life trying to destroy her, and lastly dying in a pathetic way.

About their relationships with the women they "loved", there's very little if anything in common.

Snape and Lily started out as friends. They were the same age and went to school together. Snape knew what Lily was, he knew that she was like him, and he liked her. It's finding another like him that first draws him to her. They became friends but for the most part, they had a very clear view of who the other one was, there was little delusion. Lily liked Snape but she was not afraid to call him out when she thought he was in the wrong. For the most part I would say they have a healthy friendship. Lily was maybe at times not the friend Snape wanted but the one he needed. Their final break in a sense shows this and how much Snape had lost himself, and to this, Lily was never blind. Even then though, and even through his humiliation, Snape never stops loving Lily, in a selfish way sure, but he never tries to harm her directly and he continues to try to protect her, again in a selfish way, but he does. It's only love from him to her, and Lily liked him very much, as a friend yes, but she did until she realised, or decided, he was going down a path she could not condone.

Criston and Rhaenyra are a completely different story. They were "friends" of sorts once, but more like in a companion sort of way and they were certainly never similar, this is not what first draws either of them to the other. Criston starts of as a grown man who takes advantage of a little girl - Rhaenyra was 8 and he was 23 - and tries to woo her to get a position at court and later on as a member of the Kingsguard, by means of being a favourite of the King's daughter. He watches Rhaenyra grow, being very clear that she had a major crush on him, uses this to his advantage and later on starts to develop feelings for her as well. Then, when she destroys his image of her - by either not being a poor maiden and rejecting the saviour that the white knight wants to be, or by trying to seduce him, depending on the version you believe - he turns vicious and starts to hate her. I would not call it love turned hate as much as I would call it a sort of obsession turned hate. And between them, I would say there was a mutual deception much more than a true friendship. Once it vanishes, Rhaenyra forgets about him and cuts him off and he hates her and tries to destroy her until the end of his days.

The dynamics between the Criston and Snape could not be more different. The development of the two characters are worlds apart as well, and where they start too.

I see nothing in common or at least nothing that is worthy of note, or of creating parallels between them that are not hollow and cheap - like most parallels are tbh.

Characters who resemble Criston and his obsession would be much more along the lines of Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) or Leôncio (Escrava Isaura). There is something of bookJorah Mormont in him as well, though the two start in opposing ways in a sense, and there's also definitely something of Humbert Humbert (Lolita) about him with how different his version of Rhaenyra is from the real her. But in a way Criston is none of them, I think he's more complex still in a way that he's a villain. It's very subtle and not said, and it's important to note he would never be painted in too bad a light since he was on the side who got to write history - though it's pretty clear Eustace doesn't like him as he was willing to throw him under the bus, which is very interesting - which leads too many people to thinking there has to be more.

No, there isn't. There's doesn't need to be. Not every twisted person is deranged and in your face evil, and some villains - the best ones - think of themselves as doing the right thing, as the heroes of their story. As a Kingmaker, giving the crown to the one they deem worthy. And not every villain needs something to have triggered him to "become" evil, something many seem to think needs to have happened with Criston Cole. And if I can add, this idea that there's a switch that turns us evil or good is quite dangerous. Like I said before, from the start he knew what he was doing, he was ambitious, he knew what he wanted, and whatever his reason for turning on Rhaenyra was, it has to do with how she affronted him and destroyed his image of her.

In a way perhaps Snape and Criston can be a lesson of sorts. In the first you have someone you would naturally think a villain, in the second, you have someone you would naturally consider a hero. But the twist is, that the hero might be a bitter not very attractive man who did a lot of wrongs, and the villain might be the once charming and handsome white knight who used a little girl and then wanted to destroy the woman she became.

[cowgurrrl]

ok what am I supposed to do now the one for the money, two for the show is done!!!?! I would love more lord while I go back a reread everything from the beginning!

If you’re taking requests maybe quick snapshots of the year apart? Not to get too personal but I have a crush and I’ve been stalking their social media but like in a chill way (or I’m trying to) I imagine reader and Joel both seeing each others accomplishments or posts or being tagged in things and just being happy for each other but also….the longing

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author's note: this is so angsty i'm sorry

Summary: This ask

Warnings: angst, yearning, oh it's so sad

Joel Miller's New Album Set to Break Records

Everything We Know About Joel Miller's New Album Glass House

Glass House Expected to Go Platinum Before Next Month

What Songs on Joel Miller's New Album Are About Famous Actress Ex?

You almost text Joel about the headlines and theories flooding your timeline. Almost. You actually started typing out a message before reading the last message you sent him almost four months ago and quickly deleting it. You're happy for him. You really are. In the pictures from his album release party, he looked insanely happy, posing with Ellie and Sarah and hugging his musician friends in celebration. He even played one of his newest songs, "Love-in-idleness," at the party with only his acoustic guitar and that deep voice of his. You think you would know it's about you even if he didn't tell you about it before you left. Love-in-idleness is the flower used in A Midsummer Night's Dream to make a love potion to unite the couples. It's common knowledge, but Joel might be one of the only people in the world who knows how much that play means to you. The song quickly becomes one of your favorites, but you don't tell him.

You scroll through his social media unashamedly. Dave Grohl and half the world congratulates him on his album release. He's making the music he's always wanted to make. Sarah told you she got into UCLA, and Ellie is drawing again. He's happy. They all are. So, why do you feel so shitty? Neither of you has deleted the pictures of each other from your profiles. It feels like a staring contest, seeing who will hold the torch of your relationship longer. It doesn't help that people are screenshotting the pictures of you together to "add context" to Joel's lyrics. The one that makes you break down is a quick snapshot someone took of you leaning on him in Central Park when you were watching the guitarist with lyrics from "The Yellow Subway." 

She knows more than me. You better believe

That city couldn't hold her right, but then

I couldn't either.

Despite the heartbreaking lyrics, you two look comfortable together— your head on his shoulder and his hand in yours. You cry in between scenes, ruining your makeup and having a mini-therapy session with your makeup artist, Saoirse, as a result. You don't post anything about his new album, but you put on a happy face and post snapshots from your time spent in Ireland thus far. Pitchers of Guinness, the Cliffs of Moher, stunningly green mornings, and a picture of you and the film crew hiding out in a tent while the rain comes down around you. Joel likes the photos but makes no other move to communicate with you.

You wonder if he's torturing himself in the same way you are. You wonder if he's waiting for a headline about you dating someone new like you are for him. You wonder if he's hurting the way you are. Selfishly, you hope he is because that means he still thinks of you. You also want him to hurt because he hurt you. You still love him, but you can't be the woman who crawls back to someone who can't trust her with things, like telling her the mother of his child is back in town. 

This is what's best. It's what needs to happen. You need to be here, working, and he needs to be there, being a dad and making music. It doesn't make it any easier or soothe the ache in your heart, but it's necessary. It's for your own good. Right? 

Right?

[shan-eee]

Age: 19 years old

Likes: drinking and partying, one-night stands with no tomorrow, if possible, all types of illicit things as long as it makes him think of something else, killer, even if he's not not the most present he makes efforts at least, the cats, his cute calm and cute, kill one can have a lot of influence on his

Hates: dream, it's an idiot, who has to face the lesson (he's not stupid, he's what he's doing, what's looking for his steps from being argued), admitting his wrongs and apologizing, he still prefers that they have cut his tongue than to apologize if he doesn't want to, this hatred which drips from his orbits, genetic heredity despite his love in verse Killer reminds him to the cotidient why dream doesn't love him even if he doesn't succeed to erase it and it gets worse even when he tries out of annoyance

Relationship:

Dream: cheating is not good even less when you find yourself with a soul in your gut and you have to explain to cros that ""it was an accident you drank too much, please believe me it's not me "", at least Cross is not the one who blames Star Kill for coming into the world, note that Dream was never good at naming his children. He can't love stars kills Because he doesn't like reminds him who is not so perfect who wants to make him believe and who does "tasks" in his family so perfect with two children who have the same powers as him and the other which has practically nothing in particular apart from resembling a little too much a killer

Killer: he didn't ask for anything, he wasn't even aware of Dream's affair with Cross, he would have liked to be more present for his son but a family man and being a mercenary is not something that cole, at least he makes an effort and always gets his gift and his cake on time

Cross: he is an excellent father and father-in-law, always attentive and patient, he is just not lucky enough to have chosen dream as his partner, star kills does not hate him and is deep down jealous who and gives children perfect a dream and direct these frustrations in anger but will not end this hushed up when he is more mature to understand the situation

Lux: he hardly interacts with her, she is his big sister and Dream's pet, he feels enormous jealousy towards her but at least he doesn't show her too much respect even if she is not stupid, she remains patient for her little brother and hopes that one day she will be appreciated by him

Star cross: against all odds being a big brother has more to him and stars cross you a good little grudge in their father seeing very well that his brother does not have as much attention as him but he and especially the one who watches over his brother and tries to ensure that there is not too much stupidity

Palettes: they have the same father plus he has ink so they can understand this in terms of a father incapable of assuming who likes to cheat on his partner not only with killer

Pj: its with him who does the worst filth, dream and not ready to be at peace with these two, he you both a groin in their father they are made to be friends

The rest of the Gang and nightmare: he likes being at his uncle's house, nightmare and not a cake uncle but at least the dignity of telling him who feels nothing towards him and who doesn't expect to be loved compared to his brother, the Gange his in himself his father that is not dream even if they do not have the best mental health his with them who has can ready everything learned to the times in positive and negative

Star kills: he's a bad kid, he's selfish, jealous, rude and likes to create disorder and make a mess, he has plenty of points where it's justified not to like him like Dream but underneath that shell he's just a kid who wants to draw attention to him who destroys himself or his relationships, he is explosive and does not manage his frustrations at all he sometimes acts in exaggerated ways such as losing his temper over nothing or getting upset over trifles but those who have managed to really know him and overcome his negative points know who always ends up apologizing in his own way to the two who show attention and above all listen and seek deep down to be a better person even if its "not won"

(its a translation via Google translator, expressions in my language are a bit weird and cannot really be translated so sorry if its sometimes not so understandable, Don’t hesitate to ask me! )

[ladysunbite]

“Why didn’t you fight better, with more luck on your side?”

Orianna curves her lips in a crescent, a creature of a habit and less of a genuine emotion. There is no sadness in the smile of hers, but no bitterness either.

"That night was...terribly convoluted..." Ravens cawing dark prediction, carnage by the claws of the lesser vampires, murky gossips, a threat of a civil war and a new duchess - Anarietta was amusing, with her capricious ways of a beloved child and a slyness of a weasel where politics absolutely urged her to make a move. it was ceaselessly surprising how such a woman managed to rule a country into a charmed dream, being on paper the worst ruler imaginable. No wonder, she wanted no new duchess, - her mediator-friend that was nowhere to be found - when she needed his silver tongue and a bag of rumors the most! - her flippant seamstresses at the verge of loosing their pretty heads - in the most silly way, oh, she bet ...- her troubled little ruva supposedly ordering the bloodshed - tsk, tsk, what nonsense! if there was a striking example of meaningless violence, drowning the merry city in blood and agony was the most meaningless act of all, it made even her head hurt and her heart flinch - and as a crown of thorns at the head of that night...a witcher at her door. Speaking of ancient secrets that had maws, and fangs and claws with the blunt stubbornness, as if he was asking for an audience with a royal sommelier. Orianna should have ran him through once they were out of sight of Beauclair, amidst the wilderness of night roads. Night roads keep their stories close and grow lovely flowers where vile deeds took place. The tradition would look favorably at the act, all necessary excuses were in her hands like a neat draw of cards - he ate her her house, he was too closely connected to their passionate and prying duquessa... yet he crossed the line by knowing too much of what lied unseen. Even her children were kept ignorant...she would be able to coax Emiel to forgive her eventually. What made her hand stray then - a chiseled calculation? a virtue of care? a disease of fashion called humanism? the sun-eyed vampiress would never know to this day.

"My only surviving child was there - another death would be too much for him to witness," she didn't think of the rattled little soul at that moment, to be honest. The realization that he had committed an act - albeit unknowingly - of killing his own dawned upon Orianna later with a heaviness of a moonless night. According to her own rules, that mirrored the code of the vampire world, the boy ought to be put to death. Her orphans were prohibited to kill their own. Why else, by the Unseen, she drunk of him after the witcher was out of the door? The sun-eyed was not a pitiful, soled drunkard, but she needed her mind clean and her claws untrembling... "Would you truly kill Geralt of Rivia for me, then?"